Eugenics
by Rampant Poultry
Summary: AU. In a world where humanity is on the brink of extinction in the face of the Grimm, the kingdom of Vale has resorted to arranged marriages between its strongest citizens, hoping against hope that a miracle hero will be born. In a romance initiated without free choice, is it even possible to find happiness? Lancaster
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

I'm eighteen, I'm drowning in people, and I'm scared out of my freaking _mind_.

Everyone else is terrified too, all the other hundreds and hundreds of eighteen year olds. We blot out every square inch of Fifth Street's antique stone tiles, a cloud of humanity so thick that would–be passers by are forced to detour for half a mile, but you won't find a single soul who isn't wishing with all their might that they could be somewhere, _anywhere_ else. Some of us are shaking, some of us are crying, but most of us just stare with haunted eyes at the building we're oozing into on leaden feet. It towers above us, a brilliant monstrosity of gleaming white marble and inviting sheets of glass. Vale's government has an official title for it, but none of us remember what it is. It's just The Center. A few nearby adult pedestrians shoot pitying glances at us, but most shuffle forward with downcast eyes. Nobody likes it, but The Center is a necessary evil. They survived. Most of us will too.

No matter how much the government tries to gloss over it, the eighteenth birthday brings with it the dreaded Report. If you're lucky, they find you have no potential for aura and your service to the state involves military conscription into a regiment for a year or two. If you're _really_ lucky, you might not even get that. Either way, you'll probably survive and then the rest of your life is yours. You can dream of the job you want, go to school if you want, get married to a nice guy or girl if you want, get a clean apartment in the residence of your choosing, and have one, two, three, four, however many children you want. The world's yours, more or less, as long as you work for it.

If you're not lucky – if you have The Curse, if you have _aura_ – well, your life is what buys the rest of us our freedom.

"Jaune!"

I whirl around at the sound of my name. I can't find the source at first, but eventually I pick out a slim, black hooded figure sifting its way through the crowd. It moves with inhuman grace, flowing through the tight gaps between people like water. I know who it is even before I see the golden pupils beneath the hood.

"Blake," I offer her a weak grin once she sidles up beside me. "It's been forever. Welcome to the party."

She rolls her eyes. "It's been two weeks you dork. And thanks. _Thrilled_ to be here."

"Like I said, forever." Her presence doesn't exactly alleviate my dread, _nothing_ could do that, but it's like having a favorite blanket during a scary movie; she's warm, familiar, and comforting, and I've been friends with Blake Belladonna far longer than I've had any mere blanket. A burden shared is a burden halved, or whatever it is they say. "Where you been? Making sacrifices to the tuna gods?"

"I could certainly use the help," she murmurs, and a surge of guilt blazes through me with ashen bitterness. I'm far better off than she is. My parents are completely auraless, my grandparents are completely auraless, and the worst my sisters have had to suffer is one of them spent three years as an army cook. I'm terrified, but when it comes down to it The Report will probably only cost me a few years. But Blake? She's strong, _really_ strong, and both of us know it.

"I'm sorry," I stammer out, the words falling and blending into each other in a clumsy rush. "I didn't mean anything by it, it's just that, you know, you _really_ like tuna, so I thought maybe –"

"You're not helping, Jaune," she interrupts, but there's a feeble quirk at the corner of her mouth that shouts she's not mad.

"Right. Sorry. Shutting up now."

"You've promised that for ten years, now. Hasn't happened yet," she teases.

"I guess it wasn't meant to be."

She looks away. "I'm glad. Between the two of us, somebody needs to talk to strangers."

I know what she really means. Faunus racism is better, now, but it's not _good_. Just better.

I look up again, and my heart sinks at the sight of grooved pillars framing yawning doors like fangs in a gaping maw. Only a few minutes, now, until I see the roll of the dice of fate.

"I went looking for Adam," Blake admits without warning. "That's where I disappeared to."

"And?" I ask, voice guarded. I like to think I'm one of Blake's good friends. Adam's the other kind.

"He's in the White Fang," she whispers, and my stomach twists into icy knots. Usually reserved for criminals, the White Fang is the infamous all–faunus hunter brigade. An _optimistic_ person would call it a death trap. I don't like Adam, but I wouldn't wish conscription into the White Fang on anybody.

"Sorry to hear that." What else can I say?

The tide of humanity shoves us forward into the building. It's every bit pristine on the inside as it was on the outside: grandiose ceilings, wood paneled walls, slender buttresses and even a fountain of bubbling water over a bed of obsidian. Strings of lights cast a pure white glow over the whole interior, illuminating a gargantuan poster of scarlet and gold. On it, a squad of hunters pose in front of a rising sun. Beneath the image is captioned _The heroes of today. The legends of tomorrow_ , as if through sheer delusion it can reverse the cruel reality. My gaze is quickly magnetized to the expansive row of maple desks adorning the opposite wall. The figurative executioner's block.

Blake is roughly jostled into position right in front of me. The line stretches before us, but The Center is a brutally efficient machine, and we can hardly blink before her turn has come.

There's a woman behind the desk, dressed in a snappy black blouse and severe grey pencil skirt. She can't be more than a few years older than us, with almond eyes and long black hair pulled into a tight ponytail. In any other situation, she would be very pretty. At the moment, she just looks exhausted.

"Name and ID," she drones, and I tune out in order to give Blake some privacy. I'm brought out of my reverie when a soft hand gives my own a gentle squeeze.

"Good luck," Blake says, and then she disappears into the crowd. I step forward to fill the vacancy.

"Name and ID."

"Jaune Arc. 489-263-1678-7677." She types furiously to enter the information into her computer, leaving me free to study the dark circles around her eyes. "Rough day?"

"You don't know the half of it," she sighs. A shrill scream yanks the attention of all those nearby, us included. A girl kneels in a crumpled mess on the unyielding tile, violent sobs shaking her body like leaves in a hurricane. We avert our gaze as two uniformed guards bodily drag her back into the dark testing room from which she had escaped.

"That's the fourth one this hour." The woman's voice is thick with regret. "You kids don't deserve this."

Of course we don't. Just like she doesn't deserve to be stuck at a desk for hours on end, having her heart shattered over and over and over. But life isn't about what you do and don't deserve, and the alternative is even worse.

The clicking of the keyboard stops. "Alright, we're finished. Report to testing room twenty nine immediately."

"Thanks. And, uh, thanks for your work. This would have been even worse if I had to wait for forever."

She looks up in surprise. I wonder if anyone has ever talked to her, except to curse her out. "Good luck," she says after a brief hesitation. The testing room is behind the desk, with a narrow aisle leading to it. With a deep breath, I walk through.

The inside isn't as cramped as the entrance might lead you to believe. If it wasn't for the mountains of complicated looking machinery, it would have been generously roomy. As it is, I still have enough space to stretch a little before settling into a nondescript black chair. I wasn't given any instructions, so I guess I'm just supposed to wait. Sure enough, it's only a few minutes before a harried nurse rushes in, stark white medical coat misaligned across her frame.

"Hand," she commands, and I hold mine out obediently. She places it on a small table before wheeling over what looks like a giant microscope, the lens of which goes squarely over my wrist.

"Watch the screen," she says, pointing towards a flat panel on the wall. It's completely blank, so I look at her in confusion.

"Uh, I might be crazy, but I don't think there's anything there."

She waves her hand distractedly. "Just wait. Please focus on it." Without further explanation, she turns the lights off, leaving the two of us in pitch blackness.

The seconds drag on. I'm about to speak again when a bloodcurdling screech sends my heart pumping a million times a second. I jump in my chair as a massive pair of glowing red eyes swoops straight at me, a pair of wicked talons extended underneath it. A shout of surprise tears itself from my throat, but the screen suddenly blacks out and the lights come back on. My heartbeat slows, but only just. A jumpscare. They had thrown a freaking jumpscare at me.

"What was that for?" I demand, voice shaking with the after effects of adrenaline and the beginnings of anger. I don't get angry easily, but that? That was uncalled for.

"Measuring your aura," she explains gruffly, "is only possible under stress." She opens the door and gestures for me to leave. "There's a room on your right. Waiting room twenty nine. Can't miss it. Wait there until we bring you your Report."

I comply with only a few grumbles, still miffed about the test. I have to admit it was pretty effective, though. I certainly was surprised.

The waiting room follows the same pattern of decor that the main hall did, but there are stiff metal chairs aligned along the spacious walls. Blake occupies one of them. She's the room's only other occupant. One look at her face sends my heart plummeting in despairing free fall.

"No," I whisper. "Please no."

"Just as expected." She tried to laugh it off, to play it cool, but there's a tightness to her voice and a tremor that betrays her, and I'm terrified because I've never, _ever_ seen Blake Belladonna close to crying, not even when she was thrashed so bad she couldn't walk straight for a week, but now? The only thing holding the tears back is the shock.

I cross the room and wrap her in a tight hug. Normally, she fights me off, but this time she doesn't resist. "How bad?" I whisper.

"Ninety seventh percentile of all aura bearers," she intones hollowly. "At least I'm special."

Ninety seventh? There's _no_ _way_ she is getting out.

Four children. That's the toll demanded of her, bare minimum. Then there's the government "protection" – constant inspections for "family health," restricted housing, regulations on what you could and could not teach you children. Her job was to pass on her excellent aura, to produce the next generation of heroes, and there was no way Vale was going to allow that unsupervised. Unlikely she'll have the comfort of a loving husband, either. No, he'll be arranged, a mate of a suitable power, forced into a life that he doesn't want any more than she does.

When you're just two numbers on a spreadsheet, chemistry and suitability don't factor into the equation. Well, most marriages could work as long as both parties are willing to stick at it. But pulling that off under constant government interruptions? Good luck.

Words are meaningless here, so I just hold her. She shakes, but she doesn't cry.

A guard enters the room, consuming the empty space with his intimidating bulk. I recognize him as one of the two who dragged the sobbing girl off earlier. "Belladonna?"

She pushes me off with firm hands. "Yes sir."

"Come with me. Time to meet your future husband."

She straightens, and suddenly the shaking is gone, replaced with a steely fire in her eyes that sprung out of nowhere. "No," she says, voice ringing clearly in the empty room. Both the guard and I stare at her, mouths agape.

"Blake?" I ask. That's it. The stress finally got to her. I am about to watch my best friend of ten years go absolutely off the wall nuts.

You can't just _refuse_ to comply. Obedience was your societal duty, your noble sacrifice for the good of all. Disobedience leads to anarchy, and anarchy is a breeding ground for Grimm attacks. Disobedience is _not_ tolerated in the slightest.

"Excuse me?" the guard stutters, echoing my sentiment.

"No," Blake repeats. "I'm not going to be married."

The realization hits me like a rampaging ursa. No. No no no. Of _course_ Blake wouldn't go along with marriage. She was far, far too proud to submit to such demanding control, but neither would she run. She understood the cost of safety just as well, no, probably _more_ than I did. But marriage wasn't the only option offered to the aura 'blessed.' It was just the one that was offered to exceptionally powerful individuals, and anybody with half a brain took it. But I was never all _that_ certain of Blake's sanity anyways.

"I'm not going to be married," she repeats with a slight hesitation, but her eyes are rekindled into a defiant blaze. "Because I'm going to join the Hunters. Put me in the White Fang."

"You're nuts," the guard says.

I grab her shoulder, forcing her to stare directly at me. "Blake. Please. You have the aura capacity to be a breeder. Leave the military to those who don't."

"I can't," she says with a melancholy half–smile. "Just listen to yourself. Breeder? Like a favored mare? I'm not an animal, Jaune." Her smile turns sour. "No matter what people say."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," I snap.

"But it's exactly right," she responds, still composed even in the face of my anger. "A breeder is a state asset and nothing more."

"So you'd rather die." We both know the numbers. Only half of hunter recruits survive their first mission. By the end of the third, it's one sixth. Teams are devastated and recreated so frequently that you're lucky to sleep in the same bed twice. If by some miracle you survive ten missions… well, you know everyone who's still alive. Probably been on a team with each one of them at some point or another. It's a death warrant, and Blake is _volunteering_.

"If it comes to that," she says. It's false bravado. It _will_ come to that. The only question is when.

I wish I could argue with her. Shake her around, scream about how crazy she was and how I didn't understand. The problem was that I _did_. You didn't get much freedom in the Hunters. But you still got some. A breeder? They didn't even get to choose the number of kids they wanted.

But was it worth _dying_ for such a middling amount of personal choice?

"I don't want to lose a friend," I whisper, voice uneven. Like falling down the stairs.

"Then you should have ditched me when you had the chance," Blake says, still gentle, still patient. Somehow, it makes it worse. "We knew this was coming."

We knew, but at the time it was so easy to dismiss it as 'the future.' Well, the future was now.

"So that's it? This is goodbye?"

She shakes her head. "Not quite. Basic training is still in Vale. I'll drop by to see you when I can."

Great. So goodbye is later.

"Still think you're certifiably nuts," the guard grumbles. "You ready?"

"Yeah," she says. She turns away from me, but her posture alone speaks of grim determination. The fear and the shock are gone. "Take care, Jaune. I'll see you soon."

"Looking forward to it." And then she's gone, and the door clicks shut behind her.

::-::-::

I wish I could describe how I feel. Words only go so far, and I'm stuck dead center in a tumultuous whirlwind. Any sense of stability in this insane night left with Blake.

Only a few minutes pass before the door clicks open again. At least I think it's only been a few minutes. Kinda hard to tell, well, anything right now. The same nurse from before bustles in with a stack of glossy documents.

"Jaune Arc?"

I give a lazy half–wave. "Here."

She balances the precarious tower on one arm, using the other to nudge one of the papers into my waiting hands. "Your Report." Without further explanation, she leaves.

Well, I know what the results will be. Aura's genetic, after all. The only question is what civilian duty I'll be assigned to for a while. A perfectly normal life for a perfectly normal boy.

The page jumps to meet my vision.

Ha.

Ha ha.

Ha ha ha ha.

Hahahahahahahaha – normal? _Normal?_ Why would I expect _normal_? Why would I think that anything in this irrational hellhole of a world could be _normal_? On a night that defied all my expectations, why would I think I would be an exception?

No. No, no. In the end, I'm part of the giant cosmic joke as well.

The page is chock full of words, numbers, stats, but there's one value that everyone who sees their Report immediately looks for. Your Standard Aura Score: your SAS. In other words, how you rank compared to all the other aura wielders in the kingdom of Vale. Zero meant for you were safe. The nurse had been kind enough to circle my SAS for me.

Let me tell you a story. It's about an eighteen year old boy from a quirky but loving family. Like every other eighteen year old, he takes the Report. But he'll be fine. Everyone else in his family got zeroes. They made it through fine. Everything's fine.

Oh, did you expect a zero for him too? Try 99.95%.

 **A/N:**

For those of you who are worried this will be super edgy angst, fear not. There are always deeper themes that I try to explore in my writing, and although grimdark moments have their place, there has to be a deeper purpose.

On a random note, I think there's something to be said for close, platonic friendship. It's something that I think often gets tossed aside in favor of shipping, which is fine, but at the same time perhaps we also miss something valuable. I hope Blake and Jaune captured a little of that here.

Besides, Couer (and others) have the Blake/Jaune ship well covered. Lancaster needs some love, heh heh.

Yes, I am biased. I admit it.

Thanks for reading! Please review.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

It's an impossibility.

Here are the facts. Aura is genetic. _Everyone_ knows that. My parents both have next to no potential for aura. Therefore, I should also have next to no potential for aura.

Except I do. And not in the "aura but just barely noticeable" kind of way. More like the "1 in 200 prodigy" kind of way.

The first thing I do is double check the name. Surely, they just gave me the wrong Report.

Nope. Jaune Arc. That's me.

Honestly, I would have expected to be panicking more. I'm – I have aura.

I have _aura_.

The thought that this could happen never even crossed my mind. All I can do is stare blankly at the page in my hand. Is this even real? Am I just living out an absurdly vivid dream? Real life doesn't work out this way, does it?

Maybe the machine malfunctioned. That's the only plausible explanation, because _this_ – this isn't possible.

"Wait!" I call out to the nurse before she can leave. She peers at me over the documents in her arms, eyes heavy with fatigue.

"This has to be a mistake," I protest. "I can't have aura. It's not possible."

"Heard that one a million times," she snorts. "If we believed it then we'd all be dead. Sorry, kid. Just face it. You got the short end of the stick."

"That's not what I mean," I counter. "My whole family doesn't have aura. There's no way that I can be 99.5th percentile."

She pauses. It _is_ unusual; aura can be predicted with fairly high accuracy by taking an average of the two parents. Proper training and nutrition can boost it a little higher. It's the reason the kingdom is so desperate to pair up its strongest citizens, as well as insistent that they manage the offspring's lives.

"You're right. That is odd," she muses. Before I can continue my argument, she dashes my hopes. "But not impossible. There are rare cases of mutation drastically deviating from expected results."

I know about those cases, of course. They're the desperate hope of every high–aura marriage: that their children will against all odds escape the curse that they've been locked into.

"I thought those cases were always high potential children showing no aura capacity," I say.

"They have been until now," she agrees. "I guess you're just exceptionally unlucky. At least you'll make it into the history books. The world's most cursed special snowflake."

Her words are abrasive and her tone caustic, but I don't miss the haunted emptiness of her eyes. I can't bring myself to hate her. She's no better off than I am. A kind soul that wanted to help people, to improve the health of society, instead forced to watch as the young lives she wanted to improve are brought to bitter hopelessness over and over and over again. I have no doubt that her Report laid this burden on her, and that as soon as her service was done she would be gone without a backward glance. In the meantime? She has to have _some_ kind of defense mechanism.

Ironic, isn't it? The kingdom doesn't want this. The Center doesn't want this. We, the youth, certainly don't want this. _Nobody_ likes this solution. But what other choice do we have?

I don't really know. At least at the moment, though, I can try to save my own life.

"Couldn't the machine be broken?" I offer. "I can't just have some never before seen mutation."

She snorts again, so violently that the papers flutter, although none of them fall. "The machine's _never_ wrong, kiddo. Even when we think it is. Tens of thousands of cases. Live testing always shows it's right."

'Live testing,' she calls it. Combat against the Grimm.

"Just face the facts," she says, her voice softening for the first time. "You've got aura."

So that's it. Nothing left to do, no angle left to pursue. I'm screwed. Everything that I pitied Blake for? It's all on me now. I'll live out the rest of my life in a decently sized house with decently good food and all I have to do in return is produce children for the state like a good little pet.

I can imagine it now. It'll probably be a single story white house with a white picket fence. Since I'm exceptionally strong, I might even get a small yard. I'll get fresh vegetables at least once a dayand maybe even fresh meat once or twice a week – the best nutrition the state can afford. I'll get a good job to support my family, nothing too dangerous, nothing that might risk my future _contribution._ Maybe my wife is cute – maybe she isn't. Maybe she's kind, loving, and caring – maybe she isn't. But a good mother? That's not important. The kingdom will make sure she's a good mother. All in all, it's safety, food, companionship – a good life.

For a pet.

No. No no no _no_ this isn't _right_ it can't be real there is _no way it's real_ I was supposed to be _safe_ and the universe doesn't _just break its rules to screw someone over–_

But it did. Does. And in the end, am I any different from someone who was screwed from the beginning? Someone like Blake.

Wait… Blake. Blake, an animal so spirited that she took her chances in the wild instead of submitting to become a pet. We called her crazy, before. But now, with the bars of my cage looming above me, I think I understand. Is freedom worth dying for? Maybe yes, maybe no – but there's hope there. Maybe only one in one hundred thousand survive the Hunters – but it's still more than zero.

She blazed the trail for me. I just need to follow.

"The Hunters," I blurt out. "I want to join the Hunters."

The nurse stares at me like I had spoken an alien language. "What?"

"If I have aura," I clarify, "then I can join the Hunters instead of bree– marrying."

"You're nuts," she mutters. She shakes her head to cut off anything I might say. "It's not possible, anyways. If your aura was closer to standard values it would be allowed, but you're way too strong for the kingdom to risk your death. Military's not an option for you, kiddo."

I slump back in my chair, energy drained like water down a sink.

"Not all bad news, though," the nurse continues. "I know who they'll pair you with. She's pretty cute."

"Not exactly top of my list of concerns right now," I snap. If this is going to be the person I spend the rest of my life with, there are some muchhigher priorities than just _appearance._

She shrugs. "Fair enough, but you might as well take what you can get." She beckons towards the door with her head. "Once Freddie's back, he'll take you to the meeting room." A pause. "Good luck." She disappears through the door, leaving me to wrestle with my new reality.

It feels like only an instant until the door opens again, revealing the same guard from before. "Come on, kid," he says gruffly. "Time to meet your mate."

::-::-::

I was kind of expecting something more romantic.

The room is – well, basically an interrogation room. The only furniture is a long table with some hard wooden chairs. A single feeble plant presents the only color against the grey drab; a sickly green. Along the wall opposite the narrow door is a glassy sheen of what's probably a one way mirror. Hardly the appropriate decor to foster a pleasant first meeting. Not that The Center cared.

"Nice place," I quip. The guard rolls his eyes.

"Just sit down. You'll only be here a few minutes anyways."

Once he makes sure I obey, he leaves. The minutes drag on, but nobody comes. I glance around uncertainly, but there's no sign of other people at all. Just empty, stark white hallways and cold grey walls. Was I abandoned?

Right when I'm about to get up and go find somebody, I hear muffled roars of anger. Without warning, the door slams open, and a red and black blur is half shoved, half thrown into the room. She whips back around, clenched fists radiating indignation.

"I was just getting ready!" she yells at some unseen offender.

"I've dealt with your sass for six long years, and I'm not going to take any more of it," someone snarls back. Elderly, female, but there's a hint of longing underneath the scolding. "Now quit stalling and get on with it!"

"Rude," Red–and–Black Girl mutters. She looks up, and any further protests die in her throat, replaced instead by the onset of a faint blush. "Oh. You're here already."

"Yeah." What am I supposed to say? The Center distributed pamphlets with suggestions on how to interact with one's future "partner," but I'd thought I was safe. Never did anything more than glance over them. "Uh. Hi?"

"Hi," she offers shyly, equally uncertain. "What – what's your name?"

"Jaune," I state, relieved to be past the awkward stage of 'what do we talk about.' "Jaune Arc."

"Hmm. Ruby Arc," she muses, rolling the sound over her tongue. "It doesn't sound _terrible_."

It kind of does, but I'm not going to say that. I get up and pull out the chair opposite me, gesturing for her to take a seat. It vaguely feels like the correct thing to do. "Your name is Ruby?"

She falls into the chair with an energetic flop. "Yup! Sorry. Guess I forgot that detail?" She tries to laugh, but it comes out as a pathetic, strangled giggle. "Ruby Rose. Well, Ruby Arc now, I suppose."

Ugh. I'd wanted to avoid the elephant in the room for as long as possible. We're seated face to face, now, providing me an opportunity to study her more closely. Silver eyes are the first thing that catch his attention, almost comically large against the rest of her face. Dark hair with hints of burgundy falls almost to her shoulders in a messy cut, and her slim frame is swaddled in a ragged scarlet hood over a slightly–too–small black dress.

She looks way, way too young to be eighteen, still more child than adult. But that couldn't be right. Surely, even as beleaguered as they were, the center wouldn't resort to using children. Would they?

"How old are you?" I ask with thoughtless bluntness. I regret the words as soon as they're out of my mouth. Not 'nice to meet you' or 'Ruby is a pretty name' or anything like that. Nope. Straight to 'how old are you.'

 _Smooth, Jaune. Way to be a creeper._

But don't I have a right to know these facts? Willing or not, she's my… my mate. Wife. Whatever.

Ugh. _That_ will take some getting used to.

Luckily for me, if she takes offense to my directness, she doesn't show it. "I'm fifteen."

Fifteen. What. No. There were some lines that _should not be crossed_. Eighteen was bad enough. _I_ certainly don't feel ready for… for this. But _fifteen_?

"Oh, but I'm turning sixteen soon!" she adds as an afterthought. As if that made it any better.

"What?" I force out, bewilderment finally given verbal form. "But you should be safe from The Report until you're eighteen."

"Not for orphans," she says, cheerful demeanor subdued by a bitter smile. It's a jarring transformation, unnatural, out of place. Like mold on strawberries. "We're, you know, a burden to the state."

It's not hard to connect the dots. If she's my mate – my wife – then she's every bit as strong as I supposedly am. Aura has to be nurtured, cared for extensively. It's an expensive business, and orphanages are already stretched well past their limits.

After all, there are a _lot_ of orphans. The Grimm make sure of that.

"Your parents were hunters?" I ask, but it's pretty much a formality. I know the answer already. Orphan with strong aura? Doesn't take a genius to figure out. The only mystery is how they survived long enough get married, let alone have a kid.

"Yeah," she murmurs. "Strong ones, too. Really strong." She flicks idly at the table, silver eyes following the motion. "That's partly why they pushed me into my Report so early."

"What do you mean? Strength shouldn't force you into it, right?"

She hesitates, finger frozen in tension against her hand. "Normally, yeah."

"But you're not normal," I prompt. She nods slowly.

"I wish I was."

"How strong?" I push for answers. "Are you, that is. Not your parents."

"Promise you won't laugh? Or get scared. Or anything else, I don't want to make this weird, I'm pretty normal other than my aura, it's just that –"

"I promise," I interrupt, before her words get so jumbled up she starts speaking a foreign language. "I won't do anything."

Even with my assurance, it's a long time before she speaks. "99.995th percentile."

Oh.

"Sweet Grimm-spawn," I breathe, the profanity gliding from my mouth without a thought.

"You promised!" she cries with childlike desperation.

"Yeah. Yeah, I know," I reassure her. "It's just… wow. Sorry, kind of a shock." And I thought I had it bad as a one in two hundred prodigy. She was one in fifty thousand. Quite possibly the best and brightest of our entire generation.

"That's why I try not to tell people," she says in a small voice. "Nobody takes it very well. I… I didn't have many friends. Don't. Don't have many friends."

I can't really blame them. It was only human nature. At best, she would be idolized, set on a pedestal as a once in a lifetime legend to be met. Maybe a cursed soul to be pitied, by those who understood her fate. But at worst? A despised object of misplaced envy, bullied for no other reason then standing head and shoulders above the rest of us.

Ha. Head and shoulders. With her height, she probably didn't even stand head and shoulders above a middle schooler.

"You'll have me now," I say. The cheesiness almost makes me wince, but I feel compelled to say something, _anything_.

"Like it or not," she agrees. "We're kind of stuck together now." She glances at me through the corner of her eyes. "I… I'm glad, though. That you care, that is. At least I think you care?"

"I do," I reassure her. "I have to, anyways. We'll be together for a long while." Gah. I really need to think about what I'm saying _before_ I spew it all out.

"Have to?" she pouts. "So mean."

"Sorry," I wince. "That's not what I meant. It's just, uh, I'm not too comfortable with girls."

Which is kind of a lie, but kind of not. Blake's my long time friend, after all, but she doesn't really feel like a _girl_. She's just Blake.

I'm just making this more awkward, aren't I?

"It's ok," Ruby says. "I'm kind of the same way." She blinks. "Ah, I mean that I can't talk to boys! I'm fine with girls. Except I'm talking to you and you're a boy, at least I think you are, I _hope_ you are or that would be really awkward, so that's ok?"

I stare at her, somewhat overwhelmed by the rush of words.

She buries her face in her hands. "Just ignore me. Please."

"Ok," I agree.

The lull in our conversation morphs into a painfully awkward silence. My eyes robe wildly around the room, grasping for anything we can discuss to pass the time until the guards return. Her face remains firmly planted in her hands.

Her head snaps up so quickly that I actually startle at the surprise. "Oh! I know!" She rummages in a small pouch at her waist, drawing out a tattered pamphlet. "Here. They gave me this in case we didn't know what to talk about."

Oh. That would be the pamphlet I never bothered paying attention to because I thought I was safe. "How does it work?"

She shrugs. "I dunno. I'll just pick something random and we can talk about it?"

I'm pretty sure the topics are organized to follow a structured progression, but whatever. Random will probably work too. "Works for me."

"Alrighty then!" She closes her eyes. "Drumroll, please!"

I oblige.

"Aaaaand this one!" Ruby proclaims, pointing to a spot on the page and opening her eyes. "How many children should we have?"

Please, oh cruel luck of mine, _please_ have mercy.

Ruby's earlier blush returns full force, and she hides her face behind the ratty paper. "Ok, maybe not the best place to start."

"Maybe not," I agree. "Should we something else?"

She shakes her head, but I can only see the top of her hair peeking over her makeshift cover. "No. We should… you know. Talk. About it. I guess."

Hello awkwardness. Welcome back. I missed you for the thirty seconds you were gone.

See, here's the problem. First of all, I haven't even ever had a girlfriend. The ones I knew didn't go for the whole "gangly and awkward" gig. This whole children thing feels like I've skipped a few steps. And by a few steps I mean a _lot_ of steps.

What kind of Grimm–spawned situation is this? I don't know if I can get over the mental block of, you know, procreating. Not to mention all the work of raising kids. Sure, she's cute, but not exactly _alluring_ – I mean, she's not even an adult yet, and she sure doesn't look like one. Aren't there lawsagainst this?

 _Only when convenient_ , a bitter voice whispers in the back of my head. The circumstances of her Report certainly suggest that the law is… flexible.

There's gotta be something we can do. Someone we can talk to, maybe. I don't know. I just know we have to try. We're not ready for any of this. Can't we get a few more years?

Judging from the fact that Ruby's head still hasn't left the shelter of the pamphlet, I don't think she's any more comfortable with the idea than I am.

"It has to be at least four kids," she says in a small voice. "That's the rule."

"Sounds like a handful already," I joke feebly. "I doubt we'll want any more than that."

Silver eyes peer over the edge. "It's not too bad. The older ones help take care of the younger ones."

Right. Orphanages. "Lots of personal experience?"

"Juuuust a bit."

"Good thing at least one of us will have experience, then. I have a bunch of sisters and the only thing they've taught me is how to take abuse."

Icy realization grips my heart at the thought. Sisters. My family. They – they thought I was safe, or at least safe from aura.

The worst thing is that I won't even be allowed to tell them myself. No, they'll receive an official, impersonal letter informing them of the 'invaluable service' I'm rendering to the state. Once you're assigned to a partnership, the family isn't allowed to visit for at least a year, and there's been talk of increasing it to two. Too much of a risk. Family reminds you of everything you've lost. Some disgruntled parents have even fostered rebellions.

And when aura bearers rebel, it's _very_ nasty.

"My family," I whisper. "They… Oh grimm–spawn."

Ruby sends me a sad half–smile. "They had to expect it though, right?"

"No. No, no, no," I murmur, voice escalating with every repetition until it reaches frenzied instability. "That's the thing. They're safe. My parents, my older sisters, all of them. None of us ever dreamed that –" A sharp rattling draws my attention downwards. My shaking hands are sending tremors into the table. I try to force them to calm, but my efforts are meaningless.

"I shouldn't be here," I finish. "But somehow, I have _it_."

I don't hear the rustling as Ruby leaves her chair, nor the pad of light feet across cold floor. I only realize she's moved when two slim arms wrap around my torso and a soft, warm weight presses against my back. I lean into her like a puppet without strings, but she doesn't budge. Neither of us say a word until the shaking ebbs from my hands.

"Feel better?" Ruby murmurs into my back.

"Yeah," my breath comes in shaky gasps, but at least I'm not causing a miniature earthquake. "Yeah, a bit. Thanks."

"Mmhmm. It always helps me."

We stay like that for long, peaceful seconds, until the door blasts open with all the force of a dust–fire, revealing the sneering visage of a different guard. The noise startles us upright, Ruby separating from me in an awkward tangle of limbs.

"Glad to see you two getting along," he spits pure venom. "Come on. Paperwork to fill out for you brats."

::-::-::

He leads us through winding halls of stark white. Some of them are destitute, but most of them hold crowds of bustling workers in a myriad of uniforms. I'm not sure how they remember where they're going. I lose track of the endless turns within the first minute.

Eventually he deposits us before an unassuming door of dull grey metal. A simple, white nameplate with a faux–ivory frame displays "Glynda Goodwitch" in neat, printed letters. With a final leer at Ruby that leaves my hairs standing in distaste, he departs.

"Shall we?" I offer hesitantly.

"You do it," she nods at the door. I give the door three unconvincing knocks.

"Come in," a stern voice calls out. I comply, Ruby right on my heels.

The interior of the room is every bit as spartan as the exterior, nothing but a wooden desk stacked with ramrod straight piles of papers. The sole piece of furniture, a severe wooden chair, hardly more than a frame, is occupied by a spectacled woman. She looks up from a sheet of paper, and the intensity of her attention immediately puts me on edge. The mere sight of her jade–green eyes _demands_ respect, and I find myself standing just a little bit straighter.

"Names?"

"Jaune Arc," I respond.

"Ruby Rose. I mean, Arc." Ruby echoes.

The woman nods, a brisk, snappy motion. "Glynda Goodwitch. Reports, please." She taps impatiently on a clear space on the desk. Ruby is the first to slap down the thick document. Glynda peruse a it with a critical eye, gaze roaming with practiced rapidity.

Abruptly, she glares at Ruby, who twitches back with a startled 'eep.'

"You're fifteen?" The older woman asks, gesturing towards the Report with a sharp snap of her wrist. The girl besides me nods.

"Yes ma'am."

Glynda scowls at the paper in her hands, as if it's all the cause of her frustration. Actually, it pretty much is. "This is Ironwood's doing, isn't it."

"Yes ma'am!" Ruby squeaks. "How did you know?"

"Because there is no other insufferably single minded buffoon who would resort to this," Glynda grumbles darkly. She traces back over the pages until she rests on Ruby's SAS. A slight widening of her eyes is the only sign of her surprise. "Ah. I see why he was so eager."

Ruby shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot, but Glynda does not comment further.

"Alright, young man. Your turn." She swipes her fingers in the universally understood motion of 'give me.' I obey.

It doesn't take her long to scrutinize my Report. "Everything's in order. Any questions?"

Now or never. "Yes ma'am," I blurt before I can talk myself out of it. Ruby looks at me in surprise but says nothing. "Please. We're really not ready for any of… this." I don't elaborate, but Glynda's curt nod demonstrates her understanding. "Is there some way we can postpone everything for a few years? At least until Ruby's eighteen?"

There's a long silence while Glynda muses over my request. Finally, she reluctantly shakes her head. "Much as I might like to, I can't directly contradict General Ironwood." She spits the name out like a rotten fruit. "Not to mention that as an adult, you have no right to postpone your duty."

My heart plummets into my stomach, but she's not finished. "There are alternatives, however, to settling immediately. They're just unusual."

"I asked for military service," I inform her. "They, ah, weren't supportive."

"I'm not surprised," Glynda admits. "Both of you are far too powerful. The Hunter Corp isn't the only method of postponement, however. Have you heard of Beacon Academy?"

Ruby leans forward, eyes shining with obvious excitement. "It's the best Hunter school in all of Vale!"

Even I knew about Beacon. It's legendary for boasting an unmatched 75% first mission survival rate among its graduates. Almost 65% of Hunters that lived long enough to retire are Beacon alumni. It's also almost impossible to get into.

"Why do you ask?" I respond cautiously. Call me paranoid, but this sounds like a trap. I've never heard of any way out of what the Report dictates.

Glynda offers me a guarded smile. "Because I'm offering you a chance for admission."

What.

"You can do that?" Ruby gasps, practically bouncing in anticipation.

"I _am_ in charge of Beacon admission," Glynda responds drily. "If you're willing, you'll undergo the usual training, but without the assignment to a hunter unit that usually accompanies graduation. It'll put a delay on your civic duties until you're…" She shoots a pointed look at Ruby. "More mature."

If the red hooded girl noticed the barb, she gives no sign. "Yes! Yesyesyesyes! I'd love to go!"

Glynda turns to me, and I stare back in dumbfounded shock. "Are you also willing?"

Ruby turns the full force of her terrifying puppy eyes on me. "Please?"

My mind's gone completely blank. This is all way too fast. I might have been willing to join the Hunter Corp before, but that was just desperation, I didn't really _want_ to. Beacon might not be the same thing as active service, but it was still really dangerous, right?

Suddenly, settling into a family life doesn't seem so bad.

On the other hand, it's clear Ruby desperately wants it. If I say no, she'll almost certainly be denied. We're skirting the edge of legality even if I agree. I can't just destroy that dream.

Talk about a lose–lose situation.

"I guess," I agree reluctantly. Ruby lets out a whoop of excitement and latches on to me in a fierce hug.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou–"

"Very well." Glynda pulls out a massive stamp and pounds it into our reports. The words "Beacon Approved" gleam at me in giant, dripping, condemning red letters. "Welcome to Beacon."

 **A/N:**

One of you reviewers raised an excellent point, which was "why don't they just conceive outside the womb?"

One thing to keep in mind is that unlike western culture, the government of Vale in this story clearly value the good of the collective over the happiness of the individual. Chapter one shows that The Report and its strict control over the citizenry hardly factors in personal happiness. All that matters is how the society benefits as a whole. The government of Vale is thus only barely concerned with how its high–aura citizens feel about arranged marriages because the current status quo gives the most amount of freedom to the largest group of people possible while still serving as an 'effective' solution.

The second thing to keep in mind is that creating babies through artificial (by which I mean only possible with external technology) processes still fails to address the core problem, which is limitations on the personal freedom of the parents. After all, pregnancy is hardly the problem; the true issue is that those children must be raised and nurtured. Who would do that? The government? How would they do it? Perhaps mass boarding schools? Is that an effective way to raise children? Keep in mind that one of the mandated goals of raising children is to prepare them for future service as either hunters or parenting the next generation of hunters. Personal touch is acknowledged to be extremely important in child development. Parents are thus still 'trapped' in their role. No improvement has been made.

Also, if children are assigned to other figures who are responsible to take care of them (going back to the boarding school idea), those people will still be assigned their role by The Report, willing or not, which brings us back to square one.

As for the 'army of waifus' criticism, I assure you that Jaune is in no way a self insert (I'm FAR more cynical and generally unpleasant) and that I hardly consider Ruby a 'waifu.' They were simply the characters I most desired to work with. You may hold the opinion that they're out of character. This is a fair criticism, but also an entirely separate one.

Also, if anyone is thinking that fifteen isn't even young by say, medieval standards, keep in mind that Jaune isn't used to medieval standards, and such a thing in modern western culture would certainly be frowned upon.

Some of you may still disagree with me, and that's fine. If nothing else, you can be confident that I've considered the matter.

All that said, I really appreciate the criticism. Of course I love all the encouraging reviews, but criticism shows me areas to address and improve upon, and I hope the above comments show that I will take it very well.

I'm very surprised by the support and interest this has garnered. Thanks for all your reviews/favs/follows!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

I wake with a startled gasp in a bed that's not mine. A firm mattress, if you can even call it that, digs its solid contours into my back and rough sheets chafe against my skin. I flail momentarily as a flood of adrenaline pumps through my veins, but the open window that greets my vision grounds me in reality. Verdant green trees reaching towards a tranquil blue sky wave lazily at me. Right. I'm not home anymore. I'm at Beacon.

I hazily remember being bundled into a transport in the dead of night. Sometime between then and now I must have been given a room. Guess I was too tired to protest. Everything's just so... strange. It's like I'm dreaming, but this is way weirder than any dream I've ever had.

Not to mention you can wake from dreams.

A knock on the door fully chases the last vestiges of sleep from my body. I drag myself from the bed, noting that I'm still in my street clothes – now very much rumpled – from last night. I turn the knob, and the stern countenance of professor Goodwitch fills my vision when the slab of wood opens fully. I take an instinctive step backwards, suddenly conscious of my haggard appearance. I mean, she's been nice so far, but I'm not gonna lie: she's _really_ scary. Just has this aura of _if you screw with me I will murder you_.

"Good morning, Mr. Arc," she greets. Not quite frostily, but certainly not friendly either. "Did you sleep well?"

"Like a rock, actually," I say. It's somewhat embarrassing to admit it, for whatever reason. Professor Goodwitch… she just makes me want to present my best. Maybe it's the instinct for self–preservation.

"I'm glad to hear that," she says with a trace of a smile. It catches me off guard. "Given the suddenness with which you arrived, I allowed you to miss this morning's conditioning session, but I expect you will rise on time tomorrow. It will not be permitted again."

"Yes ma'am. Thank you." Yeesh, Beacon doesn't waste time. Ruby and I barely made it in time for the first day, and they've already hit the ground running.

She gives me a cool nod. "Make yourself presentable and join us in the dining hall in thirty minutes." She hands me a bundle of tight cloth – my new uniform – with a meaningful glance at my clothes. I flush at the insinuation. "Classes will begin after that."

As she departs, I take a moment to explore my new room. There's not much to tell. Space is limited, and most of it is taken up by my small bed–cot–thing and a plain desk. Still, it's mine. No roommates. I even get my own bathroom.

After a quick shower, I change into my uniform and take in my reflection. It's… wow. Is that even me? A dashing young man stares from the mirror, clothed in a sharp black jacket with navy blue pants. The top of a crisp white shirt peeks over the jacket. Is it supposed to? I haven't done this before. _Normal_ schools don't really bother with uniforms.

It seems kind of silly, taking such pains to make Hunters look good. I mean, they're basically all doomed to die, right? But it also makes sense. Hunters – and I guess I'm one of them now, or at least one in training, cuz I'm sure not gonna see live combat– we're not just soldiers. We're heroes. Icons. Everyone knows the Hunters are doomed, but at the same time, they're so impressive that, at least for a little while, you can just… forget. When you fight creatures that are drawn to negative emotion, hope is the most potent weapon of all.

I still don't know if I put this stupid thing on correctly. Well, everything seems to fit, so I hope it works.

Time to face the day. How fun.

As I leave my room, I almost run straight into Ruby. The crazy girl is tearing down the hall, caught somewhere between running and bouncing up and down like a caffeinated rubber ball. Only a near dodge on my part saves us from a nasty collision. She wheels around gracefully, silver eyes sparkling.

"Oh, there you are. We're room neighbors! Good morning!" she chirps, completely unrepentant of the havoc she nearly caused.

"Mornin'," I respond glumly. She frowns in concern.

"Are you ok? What's the matter? We're at Beacon! _Beacon_ , Jaune!"

 _That's the problem._

Still… I can't just say that. I might be nervous about the day, but that doesn't mean I have to inflict it on her.

"Sorry. It's just that I don't know how to put on this uniform." I offer the first, lamest excuse that comes to mind. She skips forward, studying my appearance with a scrutinizing eye.

"I dunno. Looks right to me." She shoots me a shy sidewise glance, then twists away, but not before I spot a shade of pink in her cheeks. "You look good. I mean sharp! Like a good Hunter. Or something. Gah, you know what I mean!"

Her awkwardness really helps, actually. I can feel a little bit of my building stress dissipate into a small smile. "Thanks. You… you do too." Ugh. I'm so lame. Just offer her a compliment, Jaune. She even did it first. Don't be some awkward, blushing, clumsy school boy. What are you, some twelve year old kid?

I'm not saying it just to flatter her, though. I mean it. She has the same uniform as me – Beacon doesn't really discriminate between male and female students. Probably because the Grimm don't either. Unlike me, however, Ruby wears hers with the comfortable grace of a pro.

"Come on," she tugs on my arm. "Let's go eat before they run out of cookies!"

… Cookies? At breakfast?

Yeah, I'm not the only kid around here.

::-::-::

Shoot.

Me.

Now.

Oh, not because of breakfast. It had been one of the best meals of my life. Absolutely amazing food. Beacon didn't skimp, let me put it that way.

No. What's killing me is my _absolute lunatic of a professor_.

Immediately after breakfast, I'd been rushed into a lecture hall with probably a hundred other students. Like the rest of the academy, the hall prioritized function over form. The desks were plain and the flooring just simple tile, but there was plenty of room for everyone.

My professor introduced himself as "Peter Port, but you shall refer to me as Professor." A solidly built man with a massive mustache and jovial features set into a permanent squint, he looks more like someone I would expect to see entertaining children during major holidays than the experienced Hunter he claimed to be.

Don't be fooled. He's not nice.

"Alpha beowolves are easily recognizable by their longer claws, darker eyes, and the distinctively sharp peaks of their fur," Professor Port barks, his booming baritone echoing clearly through the otherwise silent hall. He gestures between a picture that presents an alpha and normal beowolf side by side. They look exactly the same to me. Judging by the confused, darting glances of my classmates as they scramble between the lecture slides and their notes, they can't see the differences either.

Port doesn't stop to explain further, however. He launches into a detailed breakdown of the general purpose of alpha beowolves in Grimm packs, particularly about leadership dynamics in the presence of superior and inferior Grimm of other species, and in which pack compositions they were considered high priority targets. My pencil flies across my notes as I desperately try to take in all the information, and my exhausted mind paints streams of smoke rising from the now–dulled graphite.

Complicated, right? That should be enough for one lecture, right? Nope. He'd spent the previous hour and a half on the weak points and fighting techniques of beowolves in general.

Send help.

Oh, but he gives breaks. Five minute ones. In three hours of lecture.

Why do they not break it up again? I bet they like watching us suffer.

Finally, right before my brain paints a gory mess on the wall behind me, the barrage of information stops. "That's it for today. Your first quiz will be the day after tomorrow. You will be expected to identify the critical weak points of each of the subspecies of beowolf we covered today within thirty seconds of being shown a picture. You will also be expected to list Grimm species in descending order of target priority when presented with a pack composition. If you need help, I will be available in my office until ten. I suggest you take advantage. Dismissed."

All of us students stumble out of the hall in a zombified daze. No wonder Beacon has such a relatively high survival rate. Compared to lectures like those, combat must be a piece of cake.

"Jaaaaauuuune," a piteous whine pierces through the crowd of bodies. Ruby materializes in front of me before collapsing onto my chest. Slim arms wrap around my torso. "I don't wanna be here anymooore."

"We can study together," I offer weakly.

"Yaaaaaaay," she mumbles into my jacket.

"What's next?" I ask, steering the subject away from our future doom. I hadn't had the chance to check the schedule, but I'm willing to bet Ruby did, with how excited she was.

"Dunno."

Well, scratch that bet.

"Isn't it obvious?" a girl next to us pipes in with a disdainful sniff. She's stunningly beautiful – striking, regal features emphasize a pair of brilliant eyes, and although the uniform hides her form to some degree I have little doubt her body is equally appealing. Long white hair stands in sharp contrast to the dark colors of her jacket, and she holds herself with uncommon poise. Normally, I might feel appreciative. At the moment? I kind of hate her.

"No." Ruby responds for me.

"Lunch, of course," condescending–girl snaps. "Look at the time!"

"Ok," Ruby says. She doesn't look. Neither do I.

"Disgraceful," the girl grumbles, and then she disappears in a rhythm of snappy footfalls.

"Come on," I say to the remaining girl – the one who's glued herself to my torso. "Let's get some food. Maybe everything will feel better afterwards."

::-::-::

When I find out what comes after lunch, I actually wish I had another lecture to go to. No such luck. Beacon, after all, is a combat school.

And that means weapon practice.

So what's the problem? The problem is that the most lethal implement I've ever wielded is a flyswatter. Somehow, I doubt the Grimm will be too impressed by my sick wrist technique.

I was only given a few minutes to change into loose combat clothes – a loose shirt and pants – before I rushed to a sparring room. There, I was oh–so–generously gifted a weighted wooden sword and shield. My arms are already weary with the strain of holding them.

When Professor Goodwitch herself enters the room, I have to fight the urge to curl up and cry.

Send more help.

"Since you have not had prior training, you will receive private tutoring until you achieve basic competency in a weapon," Professor Goodwitch informs me. "At that point, you shall move onto the specialized instructors your classmates are learning from." She must notice how tense I am, because she places a hand on my shoulder. "Relax. I know you're new. I don't expect anything from you."

Gee. Thanks professor.

For the first two hours, training isn't so bad. A sword and shield are relatively simple weapons, and Professor Goodwitch is a patient – if strict – teacher. She runs me through the fundamentals: stances, basic attacks, blocks, and parries, general combat theory, and footwork. Lots and lots of footwork. After the supersonic sprint of Professor Port's class, it's a welcome break.

Then, in the last hour, the demon comes out.

When she pulls a solid wood staff as tall as she is off one of the nearby weapon racks, my whole body breaks out into a pervasive cold sweat. The thing just radiates bloodlust. It's stained and scarred, probably with the blood and bones of innocent students before me, a twisted hulk of ash–black wood.

"Professor," I ask, voice coming out in a panicked squeak. "What's that for?"

She gives me the most terrifying smile I've ever seen: a sickly, slanted twitch of the mouth. "Making sure you learned."

::-::-::

Professor Goodwitch is a firm believer in practical experience. She spares no effort in making sure that her students have plenty of opportunity to practice what she's taught them.

How does she do this? Simply by ruthlessly beating the ever loving crap out of her students until they properly perform all the actions she so painstakingly walked them through. If you attack, parry, block, and move well, you don't get hit. If you don't?

Well, like she insists, pain is an excellent teacher.

So don't worry, I learned a ton. Turns out, aura doesn't numb pain.

For the second time that day, I stumble out of a class session, this time less like a zombie and more like a sack of bricks. My battered legs barely can hold me up, and I have to lean against the wall for support. I can't bring myself to care when my bruises scream in protest. They've pretty much already gone hoarse.

You know, taking care of babies is sounding really, _really_ good right now.

After a few minutes of lazy agony, Ruby stumbles out of the room over. While her steps aren't marked with the same pained limp that mine are, she hasn't come out unscathed. A massive, dark purple bruise adorns her cheek, and although the sleeves of the combat dress she'd changed into hide her skin I catch a brief movement as she rubs her right arm gingerly.

A surge of unexpected anger wells up from some previously unknown pocket of strength. I might not have planned it, but she's my _wife_ – or at least will be, I'm a little fuzzy on the details. Beating her up? Not chill.

She catches sight of me and walks over. She's definitely tired, her slightly hunched posture and heavier steps make that clear, but there's a satisfied smile dancing across her lips. "Jaune!" She studies my face before breaking into a fit of giggling. "You look terrible."

 _So do you._ "Professor Goodwitch," I mourn by way of explanation. Her amusement instantly transforms to sympathy.

"Ouch."

"Yeah. Ouch." I nod meaningfully at her bruise. "What happened to you?"

She rubs the back of her head in embarrassment. "Don't laugh."

"Can't promise."

She sticks her tongue out at me. "I… I ran into a bar."

She… what? I don't know what I was expecting, but it sure wasn't that. "Should I ask how?"

She sighs and slumps against the wall. "My semblance is speed. Really, really fast speed."

I nod. Somehow, I'm not surprised at all.

"Well," she continues, "my instructor says that speed's great, but I need agility as well."

Uh oh. I don't like where this is going.

"So in order to make sure I develop both, he's making me run through obstacle courses. In a very short time." She shudders. "And if I fail, I have to run it again."

"I'm so sorry," I deadpan. Still, in a twisted way, it's really smart. Super fast fighters are infamous for being predictable. Somebody with the flexibility to change their movement at an instant's notice would be an absolute monster. "Who's your instructor?"

She frowns. "A man named Qrow. He's not a professor… I'm actually not sure what he is." She hesitates for a long while. "The thing is… maybe I'm crazy, but he feels really familiar."

"You think it's the shared faculty sadism?"

She laughs at that, an enthusiastic chuckle that sounds like tinkling bells. "Maybe. But hey, at least we don't have extra classes this week!"

" _This_ week?"

Ruby makes a face like she'd eaten a lemon or three. "Yeah. They gave us a lighter load so we can get used to it, but next week we'll have sparring or another lecture at this time. Not to mention a new training session before lunch." She sighs dramatically. "At least that one's short."

Oh sweet Grimm–spawn. This was the _light_ load?

Send even more help. I'm not gonna make it.

::-::-::

Perhaps in accordance with my foul mood, a heavy thunderstorm rolls in that evening. Pounding rain hammers the roof of my room in sequence with my splitting headache. Ruby and I spent the majority of the day studying together, but by the end the only thing I'm certain of was that I'm irreparably screwed. Cramming everything together is just too cruel. Couldn't they do something like an hour of exercise followed by an hour of lecture, instead of these multi hour blocks from hell?

Let's be real. They're torturing us, they know it, and they probably love it. Bastards.

I'm far too tired to try anything remotely productive. I fumble my way through a few more feeble attempts to memorize something, _anything_ , but it's not long before I give up and get ready for bed. Who knows. Maybe after a good night's sleep everything will magically come together.

::-::-::

I'm rudely awoken in the middle of the night by a piercing scream that cuts through the very walls of my room. I shoot upright, hair standing on end. I fumble in the dark for my light, but unfamiliar as I am with my new surroundings I fail to find it before my door bursts open. I barely suppress a very unmanly screech as the poor door is slammed shut immediately after. Something tackles me ruthlessly, driving the breath from my lungs, and I'm about to fight back when the soft gasps of a crying girl reach my ears.

When two arms reach around me, I realize who it is.

"Ruby?"

Her only response is to try to snap me in two with the strength of her hug. For such a small girl, she has a disturbing amount of strength.

"Ruby, please," I gasp. "You're killing me."

The grip slackens, but not by much. She still says nothing, overcome as she is by sobs.

Can somebody explain to me what I'm supposed to do here? I mean, come on, comforting a distraught girl in the dead of night isn't exactly covered in common sense 101. You'd think seven sisters would have taught me something, but nope.

I free my arms from her merciless pin and wrap them gently around her shoulders. Hopefully it's not an inappropriate response. It seems to help, because slowly but surely the rapid inhaling and exhaling melds into shaky but normal breathing.

Now what could have upset her so badly?

Wait. Ruby. Kid.

"You didn't… happen to have a bad dream, did you?" I ask warily. I mean come on. These things don't happen in real life.

"Maybe," Ruby says.

Oooor maybe they do. "Wait, really?"

She punches my arm. It's such a feeble motion that even my bruised muscles barely register the hit. "Meanie. Ok, fine, I did." She turns around, so that her back leans against my chest and her head comes to rest under my chin. "It's dumb, right? That just a nightmare could scare me this much."

Yes. "Depends on the nightmare, I guess."

"Mmm," she hums noncommittally.

For a moment, the only sound is the rain spitting hate against everything outside, but Ruby pipes up before long. "I hate thunderstorms." The complete change in topic throws me off like mental whiplash.

"Why?" I finally manage.

"The worst day of my life was a thunderstorm." Right on cue, a deafening crash tears through the steady percussion of rain. Ruby shrinks deeper into me. Since she hasn't protested yet, I hug her a little tighter. Given how physically affectionate she is, it makes sense she would like it. Sure enough, she relaxes once more in my arms.

"Better?" I ask.

A weak laugh is my answer. "Yang used to do the same thing."

I blink in confusion before realizing that 'Yang' is probably a name. "Who?"

"My sister," Ruby clarifies. "She was a Hunter."

Was. Not is. Not surprising. "How long ago?" Gah. Tact, Jaune. You will learn it someday.

Luckily, Ruby understands what I'm _really_ asking. More luckily, she doesn't seem to mind. "Seven years. She was ten years older than me. She was basically my mom, once my real one died." Her voice falls into a shaking whisper. "I miss her so much."

There's pain there, and a lot of it. Even someone as awkward as I am can tell. "Want to talk about it?"

She spends a long time working up the will to respond. "I'm from Patch." Nothing more. It's a short answer. It shouldn't tell me anything. But it tells me everything.

You see, Patch is a little island off of Vale's coast. It was the first colony attempt once The Council felt the need to expand outside the relative safety of Vale's walls.

It's now the site of one of the worst Hunter defeats in recorded history. Looking back, nobody wanted to go to Patch. You were 'volunteered.' It makes sense that it would be a festering pool of resentment.

And, well, the Grimm love that sort of thing.

The Patch massacre happened ten years ago. Put two and two together, and it's not hard to guess what happened to Ruby's sister.

"They drilled us on how to react to Grimm attacks, you know," Ruby continues. "Even the little kids like me. You just follow the crowd to the evac zones, don't panic, and don't wander. There were plenty of airships waiting to lift us out." She chuckles mirthlessly. "Except I didn't. I was too scared, so I hid under my bed."

My heart twists at the self–loathing that permeates every word. I open my mouth to interrupt, but when she cuts me off I say nothing.

"Yang was a Beacon trainee at the time, but the Patch attack was a national emergency, so they dispatched everyone with a hint of aura. She found me, somehow. She'd been fighting for hours. The Grimm were right behind her."

Ruby comes to a stop, but when she resumes again, her voice is thick with choked–back tears. "She told me to run. I listened. She didn't follow me."

By this time, my own throat is painfully tight. I'm perversely glad I can't see her in the darkness. I would probably start crying myself.

"So yeah. Now you know," Ruby concludes. "An amazing hero died because her stupid little sister was too dumb to obey instructions."

"You were a kid," I spout the first words that come to mind. "Blame the Grimm, not yourself." It's empty, insensitive, even condescending, and I regret saying them as soon as they leave my mouth.

"Because that excuses everything, right?" Ruby snarls. The bitterness is so at odds with the bright girl I've come to know that I'm struck completely silent. All I can do is hug her even tighter as a fresh wave of sobbing overtakes her. By the time she wears herself out and falls asleep against me, I'm every bit as exhausted as she is. Sleep comes quickly, but not easily.

 **A/N:**

I'm not gonna lie, your reviews were extremely inspiring. Thanks so much for the feedback, and I'm glad people are enjoying it. All the response hardcore inspired me, hence why this chapter came out so quickly. Don't get too used to it though, heh heh.

No long rambling note about world lore this time. Hope you guys enjoyed, and let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

When a merciless sun blasts me with light the following morning, Ruby's already gone. I grasp blearily for my scroll, only succeeding on the third attempt. 6:15. Ugh. Professor Goodwitch's leniency ends today, and that means forcing myself to attend morning conditioning. When I finally drag myself out, I do so on leaden feet, dreading the torture I'm sure is coming my way.

As expected, it sucks. I think I lose a few organs from overuse, especially my lungs. My brutal labor is rewarded with a first class with Professor Oobleck: 'Culture and History of the Hunter Corp.' It sucks too, but not quite as much. He spends a long time going over past battles with the Grimm and the tactics employed by various Hunter teams, which might have been interesting if I wasn't dying trying to keep up. Professor Goodwitch beats me up again. I eat lunch. Professor Goodwitch beats me up some more. There's no sparring yet, so I get to study. Yay. Ruby does not have a midnight meltdown this time. She gets beaten up by obstacle courses three times harder than the first time around, though. I'm still mad about it.

So basically, nothing changes except that everything gets more painful.

The following day after that, as expected, I fail Port's quiz. So does almost everyone else. The only one I know who passes is the arrogant white haired girl – Weiss Schnee, I learn later – and I only know she passes because she won't shut up about it. Port admonishes us for a while and then begins stuffing a new wave of information into our thick skulls. Ruby complains some more. I join her.

We settle into a routine, of sorts. Backbreaking conditioning, mind numbing lectures, spirit shattering weapons training, and then frenzied self study to desperately synthesize the material of the day. I'm kept so busy that I don't even have the energy to complain about it.

The weekend arrives before I know it. Unlike most combat schools, Beacon gives a very generous two days a week off. Part of it is to rest, but part of it is also to catch up. Still, it's reassuring to know they don't want to _completely_ kill us.

Having a break is kind of nice. On the other hand, I have absolutely no idea what to do with my newfound free time. How did I entertain myself again? Pre–Beacon was another life, another Jaune, and trying to remember it is like trying to catch mist in a bucket.

I study a bit. It's become something of an ingrained habit, and if I'm honest I actually enjoy what I'm studying. It's like all the knowledge I'm gaining is a weapon I can someday use against the Grimm. It's hope, I guess, an act of defiance against the fate that most likely awaits me. Well, it's unlikely I'll ever use it. I don't want to fight, and even if I did I doubt I would be allowed to. It's nice to know I have the skills, though.

I'm halfway through Professor Oobleck's rendition of the legendary battle of Sol's Plateau when a steady knock on my door shatters my concentration. Who could that be? Definitely not Ruby. I don't think she even knows what knocking is, she just haphazardly barges into my room as she pleases, which is probably going to result in something very awkward someday. Professor Goodwitch, maybe? Please no. If she wants to give me 'extra lessons' I don't think I could bear the despair.

I open the door when the knocking continues. It's not any of the professors. It's actually somebody I never would have expected. Half of me thought I'd never see her again.

It's Blake.

I immediately realize she's not the Blake I knew. Just the short week since I've seen her has been enough to catalyze a transformation I couldn't have imagined. There are the obvious, surface level signs: bruises and cuts that even her aura hasn't fully healed, corded muscle where there previously was none, slightly shorter hair pulled back into a ponytail she never would have worn. What really shocks me is that her signature ribbon is conspicuously absent, a testament to newfound confidence. I guess the physical changes shouldn't be a surprise. I'm sure she's going through the same hellish training that I am. It's the… other stuff. There's a, I don't know, a kind of guardedness to her that I don't remember. She radiates vigilance, a kind of twitchy preparedness that leaves little doubt she's very, very dangerous.

Like a cornered animal.

"Well look at that," she says with a small smile. "You actually _are_ here."

Her arrival is so unexpected that for a moment all I can do is stare at her, dumbfounded. "Blake? What are you doing here?"

She pushes past me gently, like a shadow through a chasm. "I told you, didn't I? That I would swing by after I finished training?" She eyes my room with the neutral demeanor of factual analysis. "Definitely didn't expect to find you here, though. It was pretty surprising when I went to your house and learned what happened."

My house. My family. "How are they doing?" I force out through a suddenly burning throat.

She glances at me out of the corner of one golden eye. "You know I can't tell you that."

Of course I do. As far as The Council is concerned, for the next year I have no family. Just as Blake has none, and Ruby has none, and every other Hunter recruit has none. It's a bitter pill to swallow, but that's no reason to lose myself.

"Right. I know. Sorry."

Her face is unreadable. She's always been enigmatic, but after so many years of friendship I got to the point where I could mostly tell what she was thinking. But now? She feels like a stranger.

It's hard to imagine it's only been a week.

"So what's the deal with you having aura?" she asked, steering the topic away from dangerous waters.

"I'm something of an anomaly, I guess," I snort with disgust. "Definitely not how I wanted to be special."

"I bet." She waves meaningfully at my face, where cuts and bruises from my recent training sessions lie in grotesque patterns of red and purple–black, every bit as visible as her own. "Looks like you've had a rough time."

"You don't look great either," I shoot back. "Is the White Fang as bad as I hear?"

"Worse," she deadpans. "I've almost died a few times already."

I'm not sure if she's serious. I hope not.

"But you have no idea just how skilled they are," she continues, and her voice takes on a kind of reverence that I find unsettling. This is Blake – no nonsense, practical, shy Blake. Not some air headed fangirl in the throes of hero worship. "There's a reason they train so hard. They _win_. Yeah, a lot of them die. But at least there's a point to their deaths." A bark of cruel laughter springs forth unexpectedly. "How many other Hunter brigades can claim that?"

"Not something a friend really wants to hear, Blake," I murmur, and there's an unspoken question in there. You're so different. I guess I must be different. Are we still friends?

"Sorry," she says after a tense pause. _Yes we are_. "Don't worry. If I have to be a Hunter, I'm in good hands. The Fang take care of each other."

It's not the whole truth, but neither is it a complete lie. One of the reasons the White Fang are so good is that they, pretty much without fail, get the most dangerous missions. No matter how good her comrades are, it's only a matter of time.

If what she says is true, however, I can at least hope it's a longer time.

"Could be worse, I guess." I offer diplomatically.

She lounges on my bed like her namesake animal, golden eyes trained on mine with languid comfort. "How about you? I can't imagine Beacon's too easy." She shoots me a lazy smile, and the cold discomfort between the two of us flakes away like dried mud. "If it makes you feel better, you wear the bruises well. Very manly."

"Glad to hear it," I deadpan. "Professor Goodwitch is a generous supplier."

She laughs at that, a low, warm rasp that rolls over me like auditory honey. "You can only blame yourself, you know. You didn't have to come here."

"Can't say the alternatives looked any better."

"That's why we're both here, isn't it?" She smirks. "And you were harassing me about wanting to join the Hunters. Now look at you."

"... Yeah," I murmur. "Wasn't entirely my choice."

She raises a quizzical eyebrow. "What do you–" her previously relaxed eyes tighten to focused slits at the same time she tightens like a coil. "Somebody's coming." She nods towards the open door. "Girl. Small one."

Her hearing's always been good, but she wouldn't have been able to offer such specifics in the past. Before I can comment, a petite scarlet figure sprints into the room, right on cue.

"Jaune! You won't believe what–" she stumbles to a halt, silver eyes wide at the sight of the figure on my bed.

"Who's this?" Both girls ask simultaneously. They size each other up. It's not quite hostile, more a wary kind of curiosity, but I suddenly find myself wishing I could be ten miles away.

"Ruby, meet Blake," I gesture vaguely from the former to the latter. "She's an old friend. We more or less grew up together."

"Nice to meet you," Ruby offers. Her eyes dart to the furry black ears that jut unashamedly from Blake's dark hair, but she makes no other comment.

"Likewise." Blake's twitchy readiness returns with raging force, and she glares at the smaller girl with analytical distrust.

"Blake, meet Ruby," I continue. The urge to shrink into an unnoticeable fleck strengths with every word. "She's my future wife. Or something like that."

Silver eyes flash at me with barely disguised hurt, but for the life of me I can't figure out why.

"What?" Blake blurts out, eyes wide in genuine shock. "Aren't you a Hunter trainee? Why do you have a fiancée? Wait, why did they even let you postpone?"

"It's kind of a complicated story," I sigh ruefully. "My aura's too strong for me to completely get out of breeding duty, but I get a few years off in exchange for Beacon training."

"Still haven't answered why," Blake growls.

"Because I'm fifteen," Ruby interrupts. "So they're letting us wait until I'm older." There's a hint of a challenge to her words, daring the cat faunus across from her to disbelieve.

Blake doesn't rise to the bait. "Fifteen?" she muses. "And they drafted you anyways? That's pretty unusual."

"They really wanted me," Ruby agrees tactfully.

"No lie." Blake's eyes narrow into violent slits. "It was Ironwood's doing, wasn't it."

I throw my hands up in exasperation. "How does _everybody_ know?"

"Because anything that reeks of tyranny is probably Ironwood's doing," Blake spits. "Nobody likes The Council's laws, but at least they're consistent. Ironwood though… he does what he wants. No matter the cost." She laughs pure venom. "And people love him for it."

"He _is_ responsible for some of our best victories over the Grimm," I point out.

"Over piles of Hunter corpses, sure." Her voice drops to a viciously sibilant hiss. "Especially faunus ones."

I offer no response. She's not wrong.

"Well, I've taken enough of your time.." Blake springs off my bed with impossible grace. "I'll see you around, Jaune. Take care of yourself."

"Good to see you." _Glad you're alive._ "Good luck with… with everything."

Blake gives Ruby a casual half–wave. "Nice to meet you." In a flurry of black shadow, she's gone, leaving only a faint echo of "have fun, love birds," lingering in the air.

Ruby's uncharacteristically subdued silence is starting to unnerve me. She fixes me with a pensive stare.

"You were friends with a Faunus?"

A fiery surge of irritation exploded within me, but I clamp down on it. This question, again? From Ruby of all people? She should know how it feels to be singled out. "Still am friends. And yes. Is that a problem?"

"No," Ruby evades. "Not really. It's just rare."

"Maybe it shouldn't be," I snap, but I instantly regret it when she shrinks backwards. Ugh. What am I doing? It's _Ruby_ – I doubt she has a malicious bone in her body. She probably just meant it as a genuine question and didn't realize how it came across. "Sorry. Touchy subject. Lots of bad memories. You needed me for something, right?"

Her eyes light up, and the dangerous moment passes. "Oh! Right! Professor Goodwitch said we have another assignment."

Is there no end to this suffering? "But I thought we got today off!"

"Different kind of assignment." She hesitates. "This one is part of our, you know, other job."

Oh. Of course. That one.

She hands me a thick flyer. "Here. Take a look."

The flyer is chock full of dense governmental jargon. The letters smash together in barely discernible chunks like canned sardines, but after an intense struggle, I finally manage to make out the gist of the message.

"Mandatory date?" I grimace. "Wait, The Council forces us to go on dates?"

"Yuuup. Gotta make sure we build a nice, strong, healthy relationship so we can raise good, obedient children."

"Great. When you put it that way, it sounds amazing."

"I know, right?" Ruby sighs. "It goes from one to five. I hope you didn't have anything planned today."

I gesture morosely at the stack of textbooks sprawled across my desk. "Only that."

"And that's sure not leaving." She perks up. "Well, look on the bright side! At least we get to spend time together."

"Could be worse." I glance at my scroll. 12:30. Wish I had gotten more notice. "If we want to make it to Vale in time, we have to go now."

She grabs my arm, and before I know what's happening we're flying down the halls at breakneck speed. "Then let's go!"

::-::-::

We rush into the biggest shopping center in Vale, Founder's Plaza, just in time to run our scrolls through one of the ID scanners that dot the cobblestone streets. A cheerful chirp informs us that our presence has been recorded. 12:58. Whew. Made it just in time. I don't know exactly what happens when you're late to a Council mandate, and I'm not planning to find out.

Founder's is packed. It always is, but on a weekend at the peak of the day the crowd is almost suffocating. Vale's blessed with generally temperate weather, but even so the blazing sun is amplified to nearly unbearable levels by the mass of humanity. The surrounding shops with their dust powered air conditioning are filled to bursting.

"Wanna go somewhere quieter?" I have to shout to make myself heard. Ruby nods before taking my hand once more and dragging me forcefully through the crowd.

I didn't go to Founder's much. As a faunus, Blake preferred to stick to the comfort and safety of quieter areas. As Ruby leads me through the unending streets, I lose myself in the twists and turns of row upon row of garish shops, each competing for the flighty attention of the many shoppers.

I used to get bored in Blake's favorite bookstores. Now, I think she may have had the right idea.

The sea of people abruptly parts as Ruby leads me into the sketchiest alley I've ever seen. Its confining walls of ash–grey concrete press together like the jaws of the Grimm, completely at odds with the bright colors and open spaces of the plaza we had just left. I hesitate, but when Ruby enters without a care I have no choice but to follow suit.

She leads me up a set of rickety wooden stairs into a cozy alcove sheltered in between two apartment complexes. Banks of flowers flank a couple of simple benches, and the din of the crowd is present only as an indiscernible mumble. She takes a seat on a bench with a contented flop and pats a spot beside her. I comply. The solid wood digs into me, but it's not altogether unpleasant.

"Are you sure it's alright for us to be here?"

She shrugs. "I dunno. Never got in trouble, though."

"You've been here a lot?"

She turns away from me, towards the people milling about in the distance. Streaks of color bleeding into static blocks. "All the time."

Sitting there, it strikes me. Me in my jeans and dark green shirt, her in a bright red cardigan and a neat white skirt, we look for all the world like a legitimate boyfriend and girlfriend spending time together away from all the chaos. Two kids in love. Not… whatever we are. Two trainees at one of the most intense and dangerous schools in existence.

Two caged birds, locked together at the will of society so that the rest can fly free.

"Isn't it crazy?" I muse as people bustle through the peaceful routine of their lives. "They're just so… careless." Just like I once was.

"And our job is to keep them that way," Ruby declares emphatically.

 _Or at least our children will._

Saying we enjoyed the time is a bit of a stretch. After about an hour, both of us are bored stiff. We doze a little bit in the warm sunlight, but most of it is spent awake, feeling the seconds drag by. We could talk, but we don't. Even though the crowd is so quiet from this distance, it may as well be a deafening roar. The normalcy bears down with crushing oppression. Talking over it? Impossible.

At any time, either of us could have suggested something else we could do. But we don't. Even Ruby, ordinarily an irrepressible ball of life, is utterly silent.

When it comes down to it, I guess neither of us remember. Not anymore.

The moment the clock hits five, we board a ship back to Beacon. We hadn't said another word.

::-::-::

It's been a few weeks later when Professor Glynda gives me the scariest words so far of my already terrifying career.

"Sparring begins tomorrow."

My head snaps up at her voice, flinging beads of burning sweat across the training room floor. "But there's no way I'm ready."

"Only one way to learn. I've already delayed longer than I would prefer. Besides, you're closer than you think. You learn fast."

Do I? All I know is constant pain and even worse frustration. With no one to compare myself to, my world is comprised of unending failure under her ruthless teaching.

"Could have fooled me," I gasp.

"Don't expect too much," Glynda warns. "The other trainees have been training for much longer. Most of them expected to come here."

Not like me. "If I land a single hit, I'll be proud."

She nods in approval. "A good first goal. Have you made any progress on your semblance?"

"Not at all." Truth be told, I wasn't even convinced I had aura until fairly recently, no matter what The Report said. The rate that my injuries healed at could have just been Beacon's excellent medical technology. The epiphany came during a training session; I had been hit with enough force that most of my right ribs should have cracked. It hurt like the dickens, but I more or less absorbed it. Aura's pretty handy stuff. Nice to know I have a lot of it.

"Keep working at it. Semblances often unlock during intense stress, anyways. Sparring may be exactly what you need."

Well, that was a little bit of hope in what will probably a horrific pounding.

"Professor," I pipe up after a contemplative pause. "What does getting a semblance feel like? Could I have gained one already?"

"Unlikely." Her normally sharp eyes briefly unfocus as she's enraptured in distant memory. "Unlocking your semblance… it's like the light comes on. Something clicks, and the way you look at the world metamorphosizes, and it just makes sense." She shakes her head. "No, you'll know it when it happens."

Sounds nice. I could use a lot more stuff making sense in my life right now.

"Now back to work," Glynda commands. "I worked hard for my reputation for strictness, and I'm not going to lose it because of you."

I… I think she's trying to joke. Professor Goodwitch. Trying to joke.

That's it, I'm dead.

::-::-::

I'm not dead. I probably will be soon.

The sparring ring brings to mind the barbaric arenas of old. Multiple tiers of raised seats surround a scuffed wooden floor like vultures around a carcass. The arena bears the jagged scars and dust burns of countless past matches. It practically radiates bloodlust. I wonder if anyone's died here. With my recent luck, I'll probably be the first.

Glynda walks us through the rules and procedures, but us amassed students hardly hear her. The room thrums with nervous energy, some of it anticipatory, most of it anxious. My own heart is pounding so badly I can barely make out her words over the thump that dominates my ears.

It's pretty obvious stuff, anyways. She assigns opponents, we fight until our aura reaches half, don't try to kill each other, don't die. You know, exactly what rules you would expect to govern a room full of adolescent superhumans about to beat the crap out of each other.

"Very well," Glynda shouts. "First match. Miss Rose and Miss Schnee, please step forward."

We all choke back a collective gasp. One of them: almost universally acknowledged as one of the top three in our year. The other, a plucky kid with the bad luck to be drafted three years early. Glynda certainly isn't easing us into it. The arrogant heiress' dislike for Ruby is practically legendary by this point – something about a humiliating dust accident. I didn't pry. I can't imagine a spar between them going smoothly. Ruby, for her part, is either the most forgiving or most obtuse girl on the face of the planet. She keeps trying to _befriend_ Weiss, of all things. I don't think she's even capable of holding a grudge.

That's alright. I can do it for her.

The two girls take their respective positions on opposite sides of the ring. Weiss draws out an intricate, gleaming silver rapier. Ruby responds by unfurling her unholy contraption of a scythe – Crescent Rose, and she made it herself, as she's informed me many times.

I still think it looks like a glorified lawnmower.

"Begin!" Glynda barks, and with twin blazing streaks of scarlet and silver the battle commences.

Ruby's movement is a bewildering paradox. She's full of uncontrolled motion and wasted energy, but she darts to and fro like sheet lightning through the sheer power of her aura and semblance. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a haggard, black haired man – probably the enigmatic Qrow she's told me about – shaking his head, face in palm. Weiss is the opposite: poised and deliberate, but slow. Lazy, even. She's too convinced of her victory, unwilling to pay Ruby the respect she deserves. Somehow, I doubt that will last.

Ruby sprints headlong at Weiss, and Haggard Man's other hand joins it's brother in his face. I can't help but sympathize with him – it's a hasty move that would probably get her killed in a real fight, but at the same time it's a very _Ruby_ thing to do. The Schnee heiress raises an imperious hand, and a positively massive glacier of razor sharp ice crashes into life, bearing down on the tiny red form like a translucent–blue freight train. At Ruby's speed, there was no way anyone could have reacted. The human brain simply couldn't process information fast enough, aura or not.

But Ruby's been through weeks of hellish training by now. Pure reaction without processing has been beaten into her mercilessly.

Instead of becoming a red smear on a wall of ice, Ruby leaps straight at it, and I watch as Crescent Rose carves a wicked slash straight through the barrier. Maybe it is just luck, maybe it's the abuse she's been through, but somehow Ruby finds the thinnest point in the glacier, and the ice explodes into needle–thin shards under the impact. Almost in slow motion, Weiss's eyes widen as Ruby blazes through the new hole in her defenses. The scythe streaks downward. A horrible, sickening, irrational terror seizes me, setting my stomach to nauseating flips. It's just sparring. Training. Surely, nothing bad can happen.

But it will. I know it. The rest of my classmates are watching the match below with attentive eyes. They don't know. But I do. I can feel it.

Crescent Rose tears greedily into a soft, shocked form. Streams of crimson erupt through the air, accompanied by a shrill scream that's too small, too weak, too scared.

A deafening silence reigns over the arena. Weiss is splayed across the ground in an ever growing pool of her own blood. Ruby stands over her, face ghost–white. Crescent Rose rattles in her shaking hands, the liquid evidence of its first meal coalescing into drops that join the puddle on the floor. White is red and red is white.

A sharp whistle shatters the reverie, and a team of medical staff bustle in with practiced efficiency. There's a brief glow as they apply some form of dust, and then they're out, taking Weiss with them. The blood remains.

"What happened?" somebody whispers.

"So fast," someone else responds. "I couldn't see it at all. Did she teleport?"

"And what about Weiss's aura?" someone else chimes in. "Did it just fail?"

Are they all blind? Of course Ruby didn't teleport. She was wicked fast, sure, but you could still clearly make out her motion. And the second question is no less nonsensical. Aura doesn't just _fail_ , it's so integral to who you are that it would be like your brain just randomly stopping.

No, Ruby drained it in one strike.

"Miss Schnee will live," Professor Goodwitch's voice rings out. "She is lucky." Despite her words, she's a far cry from the iron disciplinarian she normally is. She's rattled. We all are.

"Let this be a lesson to all of you," she continues. "Miss Schnee is among your best. She is impeccably well trained. But she disrespected her opponent. She was lazy and cocky, and she paid the price in an instance. In battle, no one is ever safe." She pauses. "When you begin your missions, the strongest are rarely the survivors. Remember that."

The shimmering pool of blood torches itself into our memories in silent agreement. As a reminder, it's hideously effective.

None of us will ever forget. Least of all a tiny girl, alone on a desolate floor, left to bear a crushing burden by her lonesome – guilt, shock, terror, loathing.

The whispers will come later.

 _Monster._

 **A/N:**

I absolutely love reading all your guys' theories. Some are pretty close. All I'll say is that nothing is off limits… Heh heh heh.

There are some definitely out of character moments for Ruby and Blake here. Rest assured that I'm aware of them and they will be explained. Eventually. In the meantime, you are welcome to analyze and interpret.

Thanks for all the responses. You guys are great.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The rest of that day's sparring session is… strained, to say the least. Everyone's unnerved, and it shows. What happened to Weiss is a harsh slap in the face, a brutal reminder of our own mortality. Watching the remaining bouts gives me a far greater appreciation for Weiss's skill, however. Some of the other trainees fight with a similar kind of ranged, control oriented, dust heavy style, but in comparison they're slow and imprecise, and they just don't have the same kind of power. Part of it is the quality of the dust, but combat dust requires aura to activate, and an individual skilled in manipulating their aura could get a lot more mileage even out of poor quality dust.

Nobody I saw came remotely close to instantly summoning such an awe inspiring wall of ice. I have little doubt that with a little more time, Weiss can match some of the full fledged Hunters. If she hadn't underestimated Ruby so badly, she probably would have taken the younger girl apart.

But she did, so now she's lying crippled in the infirmary and Ruby's left with the guilt.

Dense as I may be, even I can tell that the accident is eating at my partner. After all, Ruby wears her heart on her sleeve. She's every bit as vibrant and intense in grief as she is in joy. A dozen times, I open my mouth and reach out to comfort her, only to draw back in silence. What do I even say? Honestly, I'll probably make it worse. It's better to be silent and thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt, right? I can just imagine it now: _"gee, that was rough, but don't worry, it happens to the best of us. At least you didn't kill her!"_

Right. That'll go great.

My turn comes up. I get completely demolished by a girl I recognize but don't know. Once I'm on the floor, I realize just how fast everyone is. When I was just watching in the stands, the bouts seemed almost comically slow, like everyone was fighting in sand. There's still a little bit of that; sometimes my opponent just… moves wrong, I guess, and I _know_ where she's going to strike.

Getting my body to react properly is an entirely different matter. Those moments are few and far between, anyways.

After the match, I drag myself back to my seat, battered but not disappointed. I managed to land a very respectable three hits, which is three times my original goal. Woo! What's not to like? Perhaps more importantly, I kept my form and remembered Glynda's lessons. She'll appreciate that. Probably.

And man, I felt so strong, so fast, so light. If it hadn't been the thing that landed me in this mess, aura would be one serious drug.

When the session is over and we stream out with a fresh collection of bruises and injuries, Ruby's slumped form catches my eye in the sea of people. It'd be impossible to miss her; she's a lonely red speck in the crowd, embraced by several feet of nothingness as people shy away from her. The only time someone penetrates the berth is when a hulking brute of a boy slams into her, sending her sprawling to the raucous laughter of his buddies.

"Hey!" I scream at them, but they ignore me, still cackling in they infuriating way that only idiotic teenage boys can manage. I rush to help Ruby up. She takes my offered hand, but keeps her face firmly averted from mine.

"Thanks," she murmurs. I barely make it out over the rumble of stomping feet and tired chatter.

"Assholes," I growl. "Are you ok?"

"Fine." Her breath hitches. "I deserve it anyways."

"No you don't," I snap before I can stop myself. Ugh. Come _on_ Jaune, she's scared enough already. See? Making it worse. This is why the only girlfriend you've ever had is literally forced by law to be with you.

Now that I think about it, that's… actually really depressing.

"Sorry, sorry," I rush to clarify. "It's just… uh, don't feel bad? I mean, it was an accident. And it was kind of her fault too, cuz she didn't take you seriously. So, you know. Yeah."

"I almost killed her, Jaune."

"No! Well, yes, maybe. But you didn't. And that's the important thing." I can't believe it. I'm actually saying _exactly_ what I didn't want to. Congrats, Jaune. You are officially a legend. "Look, all I'm trying to say is it was your first match and accidents happen. Why do you think Beacon has such great medical facilities?"

"Really?" The desperate hope in her eyes strikes me to the core. It's just so, so sad. She doesn't belong here. I mean, I don't belong here either. But then where _do_ we belong?

"Really. If you want to, you can try to make it up to her!" Ignoring the fact that all of Ruby's attempts so far have been, uh, a bit unsuccessful, to say the least. "Like, bring her chocolates or something. I don't know. What do girls do to make up?"

She chuckles. It's a very pathetic chuckle, but it's something, and a fiery burst of pride courses through me. I did something! Woo! Score one for Jaune.

"I don't know either," she says. "But I don't think chocolates would cover almost cutting someone in half."

"Ah. Yes. Probably not."

We stumble our way back to our rooms. A nice long day of class, two training sessions, conditioning, and sparring. I'm exhausted, but there's always more work to do. Maybe if I study with Ruby she can help keep me awake.

She follows me into my room. Takes a deep breath. And blurts the question that's been on the forefront of her mind this whole time. "Aren't… aren't you scared of me?"

I pull her into a tight hug. She squeaks in surprise, but doesn't struggle. "No. Not at all."

"But you should–"

"Nope."

"I mean, everyone else is–"

"Nope."

She giggles helplessly. "You know, it's kinda rude of you to keep interrupting me."

I can't keep myself from grinning into the top of her head.

"Nope."

::-::-::

The next day, during Oobleck's class, we study the Full Moon Massacre. As you might expect from the name, it was a massive fight between multiple gangs during a full moon. Most of the gangs were racially split, but the massacre wasn't as clear cut as Faunus against human. Both races killed both races. The Hunter Corp had to pull overtime trying to both restore order as well as halt the Grimm waves that were attracted to all the bloodshed.

In short, it was an absolute mess. And the sad thing? Nobody even knows how it started. In all likelihood, it was just a dumb kid shooting off an insult at another dumb kid, and the whole thing exploded like a fire dust keg in summer.

Ruby darts up to me as soon as class is dismissed, clutching a pristine notebook in one hand. My eyes narrow in suspicion immediately. I've seen Ruby's notes, if you can even call them that. You would find more order in the aftermath of a hurricane. Nothing that neat can actually be hers.

"Jaune!" She holds the notebook out towards me. "I took notes on this class. Could you… could you give them to Weiss? I'm sure she's, you know, kind of mad because she missed class, cuz you know how serious she is about class and all and–"

"Wait wait wait," I interrupt. "You took notes? _You_? Are you sure you didn't steal them from somebody else?"

She elbows me. Hard. "Meanie. Of course they're mine."

I rub the new sore spot on my ribs gingerly. Even my gentle probing draws a pained wince. "Ow. Ok, sorry. But shouldn't you give them to her yourself?"

Her face falls, and she shifts nervously from foot to foot. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"I just can't." She sticks her tongue at me. Little brat. "So be a good fiancée and do it for me!"

Fiancée? Wait, is _that_ what we are? I guess the label doesn't matter. I don't think I could define our… relationship, anyways. We're a bit unprecedented.

I flip through the notes. Page after page of near script and pristine diagrams meet my eyes. It's Ruby's handwriting, no doubt about it, but it has none of her character. "Wow, these are nice. Are you sure you don't want to give them to her yourself?"

" _Yes._ Now hurry up! You only have a few minutes."

Wait, she wants me to go _now_? Training with Glynda is soon, and she'll flay me alive if I'm late. Nuh uh. No way– puppy eyes? Really? No. Not even fair. Don't you dare give me that Ruby, that's seriously cheating–

And now my feet are marching down the corridor. When did that happen? I don't care what she says, there's no way Ruby's semblance is speed.

It's obviously mind control.

::-::-::

After being ruthlessly dominated by some hitherto unknown manifestation of a twisted, ancient power, I find myself in the bright white gleam of Beacon's infirmary. There's something about this place that puts me on edge. Maybe it's the choking stench of disinfectant masked by the fresh sting of an artificial pine scent. Death hidden by life.

There's only one occupied bed, but the curtains are drawn shut around it. Is Weiss sleeping? Maybe I should just leave the notes for her to find later. She's insufferable enough already; I really don't want to find out what she's like if you wake her up.

I barely take a step into the room when a booming male voice spits unadulterated fury from inside the bed. There's no way anybody else could fit inside, assuming Weiss is there… maybe a scroll? But the voice is incredibly clear. I guess that's the SDC for you.

The indiscernible roar formulates itself into recognizable words. I wish it didn't.

"–you are an absolute disgrace! You call yourself a Schnee? Defeated in one strike by an untrained child?" The voice drops to a cold whisper, but it pierces the air with razor clarity. "I am beyond disappointed. Your sister never would have lost."

"I… I'm so sorry. I can offer no excuse." Is that Weiss? It sounds like her voice, but that can't be right. Weiss Schnee is proud, arrogant, condescending. She believes herself the best and does not hesitate to let other people know it. This girl sounds like a broken shell, shaking and choked with barely suppressed tears. "It will not happen again."

"If it does," the unseen voice roars once more, "you shall be no daughter of mine. I was a fool to send you to Beacon. Do not make me a bigger one."

"Yes fa– sir. I will make you proud."

The voice snorts. "Unlikely." And then there is silence, and I know the call has ended because Weiss – if that's actually her, I'm not convinced, but who else could it be – breaks into wild, unconstrained sobbing. It's so alien and so deeply personal that the sound roots my feet to the ground.

I shouldn't be here. I'm intruding. This is wrong. I'll just, I don't know, give her the notes some other time. The words echo inside my head like a mantra, but even so it takes me several minutes to work up the will.

I twist around to leave, but disturbed and paralyzed as I am my feet are clumsy as lead blocks. I stumble right into a tray of beakers and bottles. They hit the ground with a cascading crash. Luckily, nothing breaks or spills, but unfortunately… well, to say Weiss now knows I'm here would be a minor understatement.

"Who's there?!" The curtains fly open with a violent snap. It's impressive how quickly Weiss mastered herself. Her face is red and tear–stained, but her eyes are fiery and sharp, and only a slight hiccup betrays her voice.

I raise my hands in surrender, heart pounding. Oh boy. This isn't going to be fun. "It's just me! Jaune Arc. I, uh, wanted to see how you were doing. Oh, and give you a gift from Ruby." Two truths and a lie.

Her eyes narrow in distrust. "A gift?"

"Yeah. You know. A present? Things you give to people when–"

"I know what a gift is!" she snaps. Two delicate hands rise to knead concentric circles in her temples. "Fine. Just… leave it on the table. What is it, anyways?"

"Notes for the class you missed," I explain hastily. Late, late, gonna be late, Glynda's gonna kill me. Oh, unless Weiss does first for discovering her deepest and darkest secrets or something like that. Either way, I need to be very much not here. "Good? Great. Sorry, gotta run. Training and all, so I hope you feel better and–"

"Thank you." Her words give me pause. I think this is the first time I've heard her express genuine gratitude. "Come back later. Please. There are some things we need to discuss."

Like the manner of my death? "Please make it painless."

She glares at me. "How rude. I'm not _that_ bad."

 _Actually, yes, you kind of are._ After what I just witnessed, though… I can't bring myself to blame her.

::-::-::

I barely manage to make it to training on time. Glynda is not impressed, but at least she's not mad, so I get beaten up about as much as normal.

When we take our first break, however, I can tell something is different. She regards me with… I'm not really sure what. Respect? But that's impossible. Why would the legendary Glynda Goodwitch respect a no good, talentless hack like me?

"You work hard, Mister Arc."

"You don't give me much of a choice," I gasp. I was kind of hoping that as I got used to the training, I wouldn't constantly feel like my lungs are exploding, but she just amped up the difficulty as my conditioning improved.

"You could always quit," Glynda counters. "But you don't. Nobody would blame you for leaving. Why do you stay?"

Why… why _do_ I stay? I never took the time to think about it.

"Ruby wants to be here, I guess."

"But that doesn't mean _you_ have to work hard. We'll hardly kick her out if you do poorly, although there might have to be some readjustments to comply with the law."

" _Really? Then I guess I'll slack off_ ," almost escapes my mouth, but the words are false. Ruby is only a little bit of my motivation. The rest? I'm not sure. It's not like I have a long history of achievement, where I just _have_ to do my best or I can't live with myself. Quite the opposite, actually. So what is it?

"I'm not sure," I finally say.

At the very least, she doesn't look mad. "An honest enough answer. I suggest you put some thought into it. It will only get harder, and you won't make it if you're just mindlessly drifting."

Harder? Seriously? "Do you guys have no limit to how hard this gets? I'm already dying."

Her lips quirk into a thin smile. "Better to bleed in training than bleed on the battlefield."

"And even better not to bleed at all," I grumble.

"Then you came to the wrong place, Mister Arc." She cracks her whip against the ground. "On your feet. Break time's over."

::-::-::

Once classes are over for the day, I drag myself back to the infirmary. To be honest, I would pretty much rather be _anywhere_ but here, but I also feel like I owe Weiss for invading such a private moment.

She's sitting upright in her bed, poring over Ruby's notes. That's a good sign, I guess. She's gotten past the "lying still because crippled" stage.

She trains her gaze on me once I'm beside the bed. A shiver runs up my spine. Oum, but her eyes are intense.

"Thank you for returning," she says matter of factly. "I'm sure you're busy, so I'll make this quick."

"Um. Sure. No problem." Now could you please stop… uh, looking at me? You're kind of scary. Not that I would ever say that to your face – which is very attractive, by the way – but, uh, yeah. Please.

"Allow me to get to the point. I would appreciate your… discretion, about what you heard earlier."

 _And saw._

"Don't worry. I don't blab people's personal secrets. Usually, anyways." I give her an exaggerated, creepy grin. "Although a little _something_ might, you know, add a bit stronger of a guarantee."

She sighs in disgust, hands coming up to rub her temples again. "I should have figured. Name your price."

"What – no! It was a joke!" Right. Forgot who she is. People probably try to blackmail her all the time. "Sorry, it was kind of thoughtless, but I really didn't mean anything by it."

"Really?" She peruses me with a suspicious glare. "How odd."

"Really! Does everybody who talks to you have an agenda? Do they always want something from you?"

"Yes," Weiss states bluntly.

That's… actually really sad.

"Well then count me as the first one who doesn't." Now that I'm actually talking to her, she doesn't even feel like the same person. She's not just "The Ice Queen That Hates Ruby" anymore. She's – well, pretty complicated. "Look, I know we didn't get off to the best start, but if you ever want a friend, someone to eat or chat with or something… You can always join me and Ruby. She already likes you, anyways. Probably would be thrilled."

Weiss's eyes widen. "She does?"

"Yeah." _Who knows why._

"I – I see. I'll keep that in mind." The formal, stiff air she's maintained softens into something almost vulnerable. "Thank you, Jaune."

I shrug. "Thank Ruby. She really wants to make amends. I think she feels terrible for everything that's happened."

"I thought she hated me all this time," Weiss muses.

I stare at her blankly. "What?"

"I know I can be… difficult to get along with. I thought she was mocking me."

 _And the two of you never thought to just talk it out?_

"I don't think she would even know how," I grumble.

"I appear to have misjudged her." Weiss takes a deep, halting breath. "I should rest more, if I want to get back to classes tomorrow. Thank you for dropping by. Even if it was Ruby's idea."

I think my heart skips a beat. This is way too surreal. I think we're about to befriend _Weiss Schnee_. Truly, miracles will never cease. "Uh, yeah, sure. No problem. Rest well."

As I leave, the only thought that reverberates through my mind is _well Ruby's going to be very happy._

::-::-::

I barely manage to take two steps out into the hall before a red–black mind dominating lifeform assaults me.

"Howdiditgohowdiditgopleasetellmeitwentwell–"

"Ruby?!" I squawk, trying to disengage from her relentless ambush. "Were you here the whole time?"

She has the good graces to look embarrassed, at least. "Maaaaybe."

"Then why didn't you go in and talk to her yourself?" I exclaim in exasperation.

"I was scared, ok?!" she pouts. "Besides, you did great. I woulda just screwed it up."

"I can't be your slave forever," I chastise.

She shoots me a waaaay too innocent smile. "But that's your job." The smile falls off her face, replaced with deadly seriousness. "Jaune… I'm never, ever going to fight another human or faunus again."

"You're going to have to," I point out. "For sparring."

"That's different. When I sparred with Weiss… I tried really hard to win. I wanted to impress her." She shakes her head violently, sending dark hair flying every which way. "Never again."

"We're just here to fulfill our obligations, anyways. We're not going to actually fight." And a good thing, too, or I would be out of here in a heartbeat. Fighting's not for me, thanks. Beacon's done a great job of showing me that.

She turns away, face suddenly an icy mask. "You don't know that."

That's… what? That's not an answer. "Ruby…" I growl. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"I'm serious, Jaune," she continues as if I hadn't spoken at all. "I'm never, ever going to really fight another living being again."

I'm tense with suspicion, for the first time regarding the girl in front of me with distrust. Ruby can't lie. Not well, anyways, and right now she's setting off every social alarm I have. Maybe she's not straight up lying… but she's hiding something.

And for some reason, that really, really bothers me.

 **A/N:**

People sure seem to cry a lot in this story, huh? Oh well. I must have something for crying and hugs. How curious.

A little bit of a shorter chapter this time. Sorry about that. I've been trying to hit about 4K words per chapter, but this one worked out too nicely, so I cut it a little short. On the bright side, that means it comes out faster, right?

Thanks for all the responses. Hope you guys enjoyed this one too.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

When Weiss sits across from me in the cafeteria the next day, it's accompanied by shocked stares and a flurry of whispered gossip.

I know, I know, it's totally crazy. Weiss Schnee, the high achieving, insufferable, friendless genius, and Jaune Arc, the clueless, talentless, incompetent hack are _together_. Or, well, at least spatially together, maybe not together–together, but still. The rumors practically write themselves.

"Aren't you supposed to be eating with Ruby?" I quip after she's settled.

Weiss rolls her eyes. "Do _you_ see her anywhere around here?"

I scan the cafeteria. Plenty of tense and exhausted students, but no eye–catching red. "'No, actually," I concede. "That's odd. Wonder where she is?"

"Hiding from me, probably," Weiss drawls. "Are you sure she doesn't hate me?"

"I don't think Ruby could really hate anyone. Let alone you, princess."

Her eyebrow twitches violently. "What did you just call me?"

Uh oh. Bad mouth. Bad. "Snow angel?"

 _Worse mouth! Stop!_

"As I thought. You are positively insufferable." She even might have meant it a week ago, but now I can detect the traces of amusement in her biting words. "But please don't call me that ever again."

"Which one?"

"Either."

"I dunno. That's a pretty tall order."

"I'm sure you can manage."

We fall into an awkward silence. The frenzied whispering around us rushes to fill the gap. It's kind of unnerving, actually. I mean, I've been the target of some gossip before, as "that dude with the faunus friend," but this is like five levels more intense. I swear half the school is studying me like a bug under a microscope.

If I thought _anybody_ was saying anything positive, I might even be flattered. But I don't, so I'll just eat my pancakes and pretend I'm invisible, thank you very much.

"Did you know we have an exam today?" Weiss says, completely unperturbed by all the attention. She's probably lived her whole life with it.

Wait. What did she say?

"We do?" I gulp. She stares at me in open mouthed shock.

"What do you mean, 'we do?!' In Port's class, remember? Are you an idiot?"

Apparently yes, but that's beside the point. "I honestly don't remember hearing about one.."

"Then you better remember fast," Weiss snaps. "Practical exam. We're going to need to attack weak points on holographic grimm, remember?"

"... Nope. Not ringing a bell."

She unleashes a heavy sigh, sending a few loose strands of her fluttering away from her face. "I should have figured. At least you're not going to have to study too much, since it's a practical. But please try to overcome your natural incompetence. Your last performance was embarrassing."

That… actually kind of hurts. It must show on my face, because her glare suddenly softens into a remorseful grimace.

"Sorry," she mumbles. "That wasn't necessary. I'm just stressed."

I shrug. "You're not wrong."

"But I shouldn't have –"

"Jaaaaaauuuuuune!" a squeaky female voice interrupts our conversation. I don't even need to look to know that an energetic red blur is blazing its way towards me.

"Aaand I think I'm about to be even more stressed," Weiss quips, but her teeth work at her bottom lip as Ruby draws near. How cute. I think she's nervous.

"Sorry I'm late," Ruby plops down right next to me. "Qrow wasn't happy with my footwork this morning, so he –" She finally notices the table's other occupant, and her words trail off as her mouth forms a small 'o' in surprise.

"Oh dear," Weiss sighs.

" _Weiss!"_ Ruby squeals. She throws herself headlong over the table, tackling the white haired girl with a ferocious hug. The heiress flails wildly to keep the both of them from tumbling to the ground. "I'msogladyou'reokayIwassoworriedthatIkilledyouandIfeelsobadwillyoueverforgiveme –"

"Get off of me, you deranged child!" Weiss screams futilely. She struggles to free herself from Ruby's death hug, but the tiny girl offers no mercy.

You know, it's actually really funny watching someone _else_ fall victim to Ruby's affection.

Eventually, though, my humor wears off and I feel a little bit of pity for the hapless heiress. "You should probably let go, Ruby," I say. "I think you're choking her."

Abruptly, Ruby detaches herself, leaving Weiss gasping for breath in relative peace. "Oh! I'm really sorry –"

"Don't you _dare_ start apologizing again," Weiss interrupts. "Once was quite enough, thank you very much." She turns away, suddenly uncomfortable with Ruby's eyes. "Besides… I have a lot more to apologize for than you do."

"You didn't almost kill me," Ruby points out.

Weiss waves a hand dismissively. "An accident. I brought it upon myself, anyways." She hesitates again. "All the things I did to you were… very much deliberate. So I'm – I'm sorry. For that."

There are several long seconds while Ruby processes her words. Weiss grows tenser by the moment, until I'm certain her spine will snap under the pressure.

"... What did you do to me again?" Ruby finally asks. Weiss's hand meets her face with a resounding smack.

"Why do I even bother."

"I really don't remember anything," Ruby muses. "But if you forgive me, and I guess I forgive you even though I have no idea what you're talking about, does that make us friends now?"

Weiss lets out an agonized sigh. "I suppose. Unfortunately."

"Woohoo!" Ruby cheers. "My first friend!"

"Hey!" I cut in, voice laced with false hurt. "What about me?"

Ruby flutters her hand at me dismissively. "You're my fiancée. You don't count."

"Ouch. Not even married and she's already tired of me."

Weiss's head snaps between the two of us. "M–married?!" she sputters. "Wait, the two of you are engaged?"

"Not entirely by choice," I comment. Ruby nods her head in agreement.

"Could be worse, though." She smirks at me. "You're ok, I guess."

"Of all the traits you could have picked up from me," I moan, "sarcasm is not one that I want."

Weiss must have given up trying to make sense of anything, because her hand meets her face once more. "You know what? I don't want to know. Neither of you make any sense whatsoever. You're a match made in heaven."

"I think she's saying mean things about us," I stage–whisper to Ruby.

"It's not very nice of her," she stage–whispers back.

"Stop doing that!"

::-::-::

Turns out, karma doesn't take long to slap me across the face for teasing Weiss, because Port's class comes far too soon after we finish breakfast.

Instead of the usual classroom, Port bundled us into a large, dimly lit space of nothing but empty floor. I study the line of students at my right and left, my hands sweaty with anticipation of the ordeal to come.

"Attention!" Port barks, and we all snap to ramrod straightness. He strolls up and down the line, expression masked behind his characteristic half squint.

"Eh," he finally declares, "good enough. Alright, cadets. Practical exam. You know the drill. Holographic grimm, hit the weak points as quickly as possible. Same stuff as high school, except ten times harder. You'll be graded on speed and accuracy, which you would know if you've been paying attention in class."

Urk. Ok, I've been kinda tired recently, but did I seriously miss him talking about this entirely?

And what's this about 'just like high school?' _I_ certainly didn't do anything like this. I glance at Ruby, but she radiates nothing but excitement. Maybe you had to take special classes if you were expected to have high aura?

Flat, silver discs whir into position across the ground, coming to rest at wide intervals between each other. The holograms, I'm sure. We all march forward to claim one for ourselves. Or reluctantly stumble into place, at least. Which might just be me.

The discs hum to life, dispersing swirling pillars of light blue particles in front of us.

"Get ready!" Port roars. I grasp Crocea Mors in shaking hands, the sound of my own heart drowning out the noise around me as others prepare themselves.

"Begin!"

The light in front of me rapidly coalesces into the lithe, musclebound form of a beowolf. Even in its intangible state, it cuts an imposing figure, and when it drops into a crouch I instinctively turtle behind my shield.

Then it lunges, and everything I've learned in the past few weeks flies from my mind.

What follows is probably the worst performance on a practical exam in the history of Beacon. I flail left and right in sheer panic, the beowolf's luminescent claws slashing streams of blue through where I stand. Even though the details escape me, I remember enough of the lessons to know my own blows land uselessly on what would be the most armored areas of the grimm. If this was a real battle, I would be dead in a heartbeat. I know the neck is a weak point, but the arms get in the way… what else was a good target? How do you break past the guard?

Oops. I'm dead _again._

Abruptly, the beowolf disappears, but it's only a few moments until it's replaced with an alpha variant. Great. As if I wasn't having enough trouble already. The neck is still a weak point, isn't it? But one the beowolf variants actually were actually the most armored at the neck. Which one was it? Wait, that doesn't help, because I still can't –

And now I'm dead yet again. This really isn't going well, is it?

::-::-::

There's good news and bad news that comes after the exam. The good news is that since everything is electronic, we get instant feedback. No need to wait for our performances to be graded – the evaluation is sent immediately to your scroll, with tips on what to improve.

The bad news is, well, we get instant feedback. Which means I know my grade.

And I'm pretty sure 23% is failing.

"Jaune!" Ruby appears at my elbow, silver eyes peering over my arm at the scroll in my hand. "How'd you do?"

I scramble to hide the screen from her, but her tenacity is boundless, and I give up. She's going to find out eventually anyways. "Bad. Very bad, actually."

When she sees my score, her eyes widen. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"Um, well, there's always next time, right?"

"I don't know if that one will be any better," I mourn. "Enough about me. How'd you do?"

When she glances away guiltily and falls into her signature shuffling, I know that our results will be night and day. "A little bit better?"

"Just tell me, Ruby," I sigh. "I won't be mad."

"Ninety seven percent," she blurts out.

It takes me a bit to find my voice. "What? That's amazing!" Probably top of our class, or at least pretty close to it.

I'm happy for her. She gets a lot of crap and abuse, after all, so it's good to see that–

 _Look at you, you perfect little genius. Isn't it nice being talented?_

–she's starting to find her stride, starting to do really well.

"Is it?" She scratches the back of her head, cheeks faintly pink. "I was scared it was low."

"No, definitely not. Trust me. I know what low is."

Our dialogue is cut short when the snappy click of heels on tile signals the arrival of a certain white haired heiress. She sighs next to me, face preemptively placed in one palm. "How badly did you fail?"

I hand my scroll to her without a word. Her response is a strangled choke that would put a dying chicken to shame.

"How – how do you even manage that?!"

"Raw talent?"

"I can't believe you." She studies me with cold eyes. "You need help. Badly."

"That's definitely one way to put it."

"So it's a good thing you know me," she proclaims. Ruby and I stare at her in mirrored puzzlement.

"Sorry?" I stutter.

"Believe it or not, I was an excellent tutor back in Atlas. I'll whip you into shape in no time flat."

I mean, we kind of have the best teachers in the world already trying to do that. I'm not really sure how much it will help–

"Meet me after class in one of the training rooms," Weiss continues, confidently ignoring any of my potential protests. "I'll text you the number once I get it."

"Um, hang on a sec–"

"No excuses!"

I sigh in exasperation as she marches off. "She's impossible."

Ruby chuckles. "She means well, at least. I think."

"I don't even know."

"If it makes you feel better, I'll come too. Um, if that's ok?"

I glance at her in surprise. "You sure?"

"Yeah! It'll be fun."

"Oh. Uh, great! Sounds… yeah, great." Smooth, Jaune. Real smooth. "Thanks. It'll be nice not to suffer alone."

"Suffer?" She teases. "Come on. Training with two cute girls! How bad can it be?"

… Hang on. Is that something my fiancée should be joking about?

"Let's just get going," I stumble onwards. Even someone as dense as me can tell that's some dangerous territory, that. "Long day, you know. Weiss will come later."

::-::-::

The day's work isn't nearly as long as I had hoped, and before I know it, judgement day arrives. I'm not exactly enthusiastic to go, and by the time Ruby and I make our way into the training room, Weiss is already there, foot beating an impatient rhythm into the ground.

"If I'm going to be taking the time to train you," she snaps, "the least you can do is show up on time."

"Sorry," I mumble, but the apology is halfhearted at best. "There's a lot of other work I still have to do."

"I know. I do too, but you really need to improve your combat scores or you're going to be in huge trouble."

I don't understand her concern. I mean, for almost everyone else at this school, mastering these skills is a matter of life and death, but I don't exactly have that pressure. If I want to do well, that's pretty much on me. And if I don't? No one else is going to suffer for it.

But in her own way, I think Weiss is trying to show that she cares.

"Yeah. Alright. Sorry."

She sighs, face in palm. "Don't bother apologizing if you don't mean it. I suppose it's partially my fault for dragging you into it at all."

"No, it's good for me. Thanks for – well, forcing me, I guess."

"Don't worry. Bossing people around is one of my many talents." She gestures towards the center of the room. "Come on. There's plenty of other work to do, so let's get through this fast."

As I move to obey, a flash of red out of the corner of my eye startles me. Right. Ruby was here. I catch her eye, and she favors me with a small smile.

"Honestly," I admit, "I kinda forgot you were here. What's so funny?"

"Nothing," she chirps. "I'm just glad to see the two of you getting along."

"I don't need commentary on our friendship, please," Weiss snarls. "Now pay attention!"

"Yes ma'am," Ruby and I chime in unison.

Weiss nods in approval. "That's more like it." She stares at the two of us, brow twisted into a pensive frown. "Right. Believe it or not, the two of you have the same weakness: you're both completely uncontrolled. It's sloppy and slow." She glances at Ruby. "Well, sloppy and slow-er, at least."

"Glynda says the same thing," I confirm. Ruby nods as well.

"So does Qrow. It's probably because we were never trained before."

Weiss arches one delicate eyebrow. "At all? That would explain it. Neither of you would know the basics, and there's a lot for your instructors to cram in to catch you up… Wait, how did you even get into Beacon then?"

"Luck," I say. _And I'm not sure if it's the good or bad kind._

"It's kinda a long story," Ruby says simultaneously.

"Good," Weiss interrupts, "because I just realized I don't want to know. You two give me enough of a headache as is."

Ruby huffs, face dropping into a childish pout. If Weiss notices, she gives no sign.

"Well, it doesn't matter. As far as I'm concerned, both of you are raw beginners, and that means we're starting with footwork."

"Ew," Ruby comments. "Sounds boring."

Weiss glowers at her. "If I want your opinion, I will ask for it. Footwork is the basis of all combat. If you can't move, you can't win, and more efficient footwork allows you to move faster."

Ruby, even faster? Now that's a terrifying thought.

"I'm going to show you some drills," Weiss continues, "and watch carefully, because I'm going to be even more annoyed if I have to repeat myself."

::-::-::

Weiss gives up on Ruby within ten minutes. The younger girl's just way too energetic and free spirited, and Weiss's signature brand of icy control is completely incompatible. Who knows. Maybe barely controlled chaos is the price of Ruby's unbelievable semblance. Maybe it is physically impossible for her to exhibit more restraint. Or maybe it's just her personality.

What Ruby lacks in comparability with Weiss's style, however, she makes up in enthusiasm. Under the heiress's capable, if strict, instruction the two of us make deft maneuvers around the room. It's awkward at first, working on minimizing my motion and keeping my balance, but as time draws on it becomes more and more natural. Weiss must be satisfied with my progress, because after a while she pits me against Ruby in partnered drills, where the two of us vie for position. Her longer range means she wants to keep me at her maximum reach, while my goal is either to get in close or to stay so far away I'm out of danger. Needless to say, Ruby has the far easier time of it.

I swear, semblances are cheating.

It's grueling, exhausting work, but exhilarating as well. I'm improving, _really_ improving, and I can feel it. Maybe, just maybe, I can succeed in this training. Maybe I won't have to be a failure forever. Maybe –

I slip and fall.

My world erupts into chaos. Maybe it's because I'm exhausted from a long day and Weiss's demanding drills, maybe it's just my signature random bad luck, or maybe it's just the universe having a laugh at my expense, but for whatever reason, my feet completely give way from underneath me, and I lurch forward with all the grace of a drunken rhinoceros.

Right as Ruby darts forward.

There's a heavy impact against my chest that drives the breath from my lungs, accompanied by a soft cry of pain, but it's not nearly enough to stop my momentum. I hit the floor with a heavy thud, arms thrust out in a desperate attempt to keep from crushing Ruby beneath me. A jarring shock shoots up my bones as my limbs meet the hardwood floor, narrowly missing her head, but it's enough to break my fall. I begin to apologize, to get back on my feet and help her up, but as my eyes meet hers the words die in my throat and my muscles freeze in open rebellion to my brain's commands.

The first thing I notice is our faces are close. Very close. Closer than they've ever been. I can feel her breath on my face, short and warm from the exertion we've put ourselves through. Thin beads of sweat glisten on her flawless skin, leaving transparent trails from where her bangs form messy curls across her forehead, drawing my vision to her eyes like magnetic rails.

And what eyes. I knew they were silver, but up close, I'm blown away by the intensity of the shade. They're almost unnatural: a soft, shimmering kind of white–grey that glows with inner light. They contrast beautifully with the dark burgundy of her eyelashes. Did all girls have such long lashes? Or just Ruby?

I'm not sure. I never noticed.

My gaze trails down with a mind of its own, until her petite nose gives way to thin, pink lips, and then to the contours of her chin, and even lower, where the delicate ridge of her collarbone peeks above the neckline of her shirt.

And then–

No.

I'm not going there.

I'm _not._

I jerk backwards like I've been burned, practically falling over myself in my haste to get away. Weiss rushes over at the same time Ruby sits up with a pained groan.

"Ow."

"Are you alright?" Weiss asks, rare concern bleeding into her tone. "That was a bad fall."

"Fine." My response is curt, my heart still pounding. Did neither of them notice? Or did they just not care? Am I just going crazy? Just imagining things? Because that? That wasn't just a bad fall. That was–

That was–

Was–

 _Was what, Jaune?_

Almost a bad accident, that's what. Of course. I'm just overreacting. Nobody was hurt, nothing happened, and everything's fine–

 _But something did happen, Jaune._

–and gee, all things considered, that was really lucky. I mean, we really could have been hurt. In multiple ways. And when it comes down to it, Ruby's just a kid, so I really gotta be more… careful. Because if something, you know, _happened,_ I would really hate that.

 _Don't delude yourself. Something_ did _happen, and the problem isn't that you hated it._

 _The problem is that you liked–_

Because I'm older. I'm the _adult_. It's my job to be careful, not hers. Sure, it's only two years, but a lot happens in two years, you know. I just gotta be more careful, that's all. But one accident is ok. It would be ok if something happened, that is. Which nothing did.

"Jaune?" The mere sound of Ruby's voice is enough to make my heart leap into my throat. She leans towards me, trying to catch my attention even though my gaze is averted. I dodge her attempt. "You don't look great. Are you okay?"

"Fine!" I snap. "I said I was fine!"

She recoils away from me. "Okay. Sorry. I just wasn't sure."

Come on Jaune. What are you doing? It's not her fault you're freaking out about something that definitely didn't happen. No need to bite her head off.

Although seriously, is she not bothered in the slightest?

"Thanks for checking," I offer as a meagre apology, but I'm not ready for more. Not yet. "I just can't believe I just _fell_. I mean, sure, I'm clumsy, but that–"

Purely by coincidence, at that moment, my hand brushes the patch of ground that I had slipped on, and the surprise chokes the words in my mouth. It's not simple glossy wooden floor. It's slippery and vaguely wet, like a thick fog over a twilight swamp. But more importantly then that? It's cold.

 _Icy_ cold.

My head snaps toward Weiss, a furious glare boring a burning accusation straight through her. When the heiress refuses to meet my challenge, my suspicion only intensifies.

"Weiss," I growl. "Something you want to tell us?"

She's spared a response when the room's intercom crackles, drawing all of our attention toward it. "Jaune Arc and Ruby Rose," Professor Goodwitch's voice rings out in a distorted crackle, "please report to the headmaster's office immediately."

I'm on my feet before the sentence is even finished. Ruby mirrors my movement. It's never a good idea to keep Professor Goodwitch waiting.

Before we leave, however, I fire a last few words off at where Weiss still kneels on the ground, face downcast.

"Just so you know, I'm going to have a few questions later."

Ruby tugs on my sleeve. "Come on, Jaune. We better hurry." She glances nervously at where the intercom sits with silent innocence against the wall. "I… it's just a feeling, but I think something really, really bad is coming."

I can't help but feel she's right.

::-::-::

By the time I reluctantly creak the door to the headmaster's office open, the dread has only intensified. My palms are so thick with sweat that the smooth brass handles slip through them, and it takes several tries before I manage to get a grip. The sight that awaits me only confirms my fear.

I haven't seen the headmaster's office before, but it follows the same general decor as the rest of Beacon: smooth, spartan, and functional. He has the same dull wooden desk and stacked bookshelves as the rest of the faculty, with the only sign of his status being a lush green carpet. What really unnerves me, however, are the three people that ring the desk: headmaster Ozpin, professor Goodwitch, and an imposing giant of a man I've only seen in pictures.

"General Ironwood," Ruby gasps beside me.

"Miss _Arc_." His voice is ice over black water. "I hardly expected to ever meet you here." His twist on her name does not go unnoticed. Glynda glares at him, but says nothing.

"James," the headmaster warns. He does not raise his voice, but his quiet authority radiates from him in such intense waves that it shadows even Ironwood. "Please."

The general complies, but his displeasure is palpable.

Ozpin turns his attention to me, and I'm horribly conscious of my sweaty training clothes and wildly unkempt hair.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice, Mister Arc," he says. "I'm afraid this was a matter of grave importance."

"It's no problem, headmaster," I bluster. His serene grace is in some ways even more intimidating than Ironwood's anger. He's unreadable, but I'm certain there's disappointment lurking behind that gentle smile. "I'm sorry we couldn't be more presentable."

"That's hardly your fault. We gave you no time to ready yourself."

"Headmaster," Ruby pipes up uncertainly. "Why are we here? Did we do something wrong?"

He settles back into his chair. Never once does his gaze leave ours. "Not exactly, little one. If anything, the fault is our own."

The pressure is so intense that I can hardly stand on my shaking knees. What do I say? There – there's probably… something? But I –

Before I can panic further, Ruby comes to my rescue. "What do you mean?" She tries to put on a brave front, but she sounds every bit as terrified as I feel, and the sidelong glances she sends at Ironwood leave little doubt as to the source.

"Allow me to make the purpose of this meeting perfectly clear," the general barks. "Your entrance into Beacon was a gross abuse of faculty power and a mockery of the laws that hold our society together. Furthermore, Jaune Arc, your performance thus far is a disgrace to this prestigious academy and an insult to your city. By agreement of the Headmaster of Beacon and myself as the Chairman of the Vale Council, the two of you are hereby expelled from Beacon Academy."

Glynda flies to her feet from the chair that she was sitting in, unable to contain her wrath. "This is hypocrisy at its finest, James! You want law? She's _sixteen_ , she shouldn't have her report for another two years! And don't you dare forget that you promised me–"

"My _promises_ were contingent on the fact that they would be excellent students!" Ironwood interrupts with a furious roar. "Not a talentless fool and a whimsical child!" He stalks forward and leans down, until his face is only inches from Glynda's. She stares back unflinchingly. "Do not push me further. This foolish flaunting of your position should never have been allowed."

 _Talentless fool_. He's… he's right. I never should have been here. But to expel Ruby too? Maybe she's innocent and childish, but she works so, so hard, and she could be amazing someday and she wants more than _anything_ to be here and why is she caught up in all of this?

"Please, sir," I utter in a hoarse, horrified rasp. "We're trying our best, but it's just taking time and –"

"Your _best_ , Mister Arc, is absolutely atrocious!" In the blink of an eye, the general is before me, and I backpedal desperately to escape from his presence, but he matches every step. "And your effort is meaningless. You –" he jabs a finger into my chest, before turning on the petrified Ruby. "And you – were never meant to be here. What use is effort, if it's applied towards the wrong thing? Because of you, two excellent, promising, _prepared_ applicants may very well be denied the training they deserve. All so you could enact your abhorrent desires."

Glynda marches up to him, hand raised as if to strike him, but Ozpin halts her assault.

"Glynda!" His voice is sharp, so unlike the polished veneer of before. She backs away, but her eyes spit fire.

"I'm sorry, you two," the headmaster says to us. "But though I may disagree with the general, he is not incorrect. It saddens me, but I must insist that you leave this academy. Pack your things, please. You shall be gone tomorrow morning."

::-::-::

 **A/N:**

Screw this chapter. Beacon is where my fics go to die, which is why this one was so delayed. And I don't really want this one to die, so there you go.

Anyways, plot twist at the end, I guess. Mad props to anyone who saw it coming, because I sure didn't. Outlined everything I planned in this story, decided I hated it, and revised it completely, which is why this update is so delayed. I'm much happier with the story's direction, though, which is good news for future updates.

More importantly: season four hype? Yes please. (And so much fodder for Lancaster… It's probably a bait, but for now, I'll embrace the illusion)


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

 _Day 1_

 _This is my journal now._

 _I don't know why I'm doing this. Well, I kind of do, I guess. I just can't handle... everything. There's so much. But mom told me that journaling is really good when you're overwhelmed, so why not try it?_

 _Mom… I miss her so much. It's something you don't really appreciate when you're a kid, you know? Even when times are rough and the world is scary, you can more or less rest easy because deep down, you believe your parents will take care of it._

 _But mom's not here now, and I can't even see her. I hope she's doing well. And my sisters, and my dad. I hope they all are. Blake said they were alright. Would she lie? I don't think so. But I don't know anymore._

 _It's been two days now, since we got expelled. Honestly, I went to sleep that night half expecting that it was all a bad dream or an elaborate joke, that in the morning a miracle would undo the whole facade. Obviously, it didn't happen. We weren't even allowed the chance to say bye to everyone._

 _They moved us into an apartment off of Twelfth and Commune. It's a pretty nice place, all in all. A little small: there's only one bedroom and bathroom, a kitchen, and a living room, but there's nothing really to complain about. It's furnished, at least, and I know that some of the breeders don't get even that for a few days, if the administration falls through. They probably were told to take good care of us because of Ruby. Anyways, I think they figure that since there's only two of us, we don't need more room. As we… fulfill our duty, we'll move into bigger living spaces as needed._

 _I still don't know what's going on, in that regard. Glynda wanted to give us time until Ruby turned eighteen, but we're out of her hands now, and I doubt that Ironwood will be willing to do the same. I haven't heard about any changes, though. Haven't heard anything at all. All we can do is wait._

::-::-::

 _Day 4_

 _Still haven't heard anything. The caretakers come twice a day, once in the morning and once at night. Supposedly it's to drop off food and other supplies, but it's pretty obvious they're really watching for signs of dissent. We're not allowed to leave without permission. Ruby tries to request time for personal training, but she gets shot down a lot, and even when they allow it she has to take an armed escort with her. I wonder what they think of us: the two crazy kids that tried to rebel. I doubt it's favorable._

 _I'm going kind of stir crazy. I think I'm supposed to get a job, but any time I ask they tell me that the "administration is working on it." I'm not allowed to pursue anything on my own, of course. I've read every one of the books in the house (not that there are many), and now I'm out of ideas. If something doesn't happen soon, I'm going to go insane._

::-::-::

 _Day 6_

 _I can't stop thinking about Beacon._

 _I didn't want to do it at first, but now that I look back, I realize it was an amazing opportunity. And I just… wasted it. I guess I tried, to an extent. It was frustrating always failing. But still. I could have done more, a lot more, but I didn't see the point._

 _Well, I see it now. But it's too late now, isn't it?_

 _Ruby's gone whenever she can manage it, and even when she's around we barely talk. I don't blame her. It's just so… awkward, being around each other. She probably hates me. I mean, let's be real. "Naive attitude" isn't enough to get a huntress with amazing potential expelled. She was just collateral damage from my failure._

 _Beacon was her dream school. And I took it all away._

 _They only gave us one bed, so I just sleep on the couch. I can't handle the alternative._

 _She didn't deserve this. Didn't deserve getting stuck with me. An absolutely useless–_

A relentless pounding on the door startles me from my thoughts. I stash my journal in the drawer of my desk in the bedroom before dragging myself up, the vestiges of my black mood dragging my feet down like lead blocks. It takes monumental effort merely to make my way to the door and heave it open, and the face that greets me on the other side adds insult to injury.

He's a dour, grizzled man caught between middle aged and elderly. One fat cigar perches in the corner of his mouth, although thankfully it remains unlit. A jagged scar blazes down his craggy face as if drawing attention to the monstrosity. I don't know his name, but I've seen him before. He's one of the caretakers assigned to us, and he's the worst of the lot. Grumpy, harsh, and uncompromising.

"Can I help you, sir?" I ask. It takes herculean effort to prevent sarcasm from coating every word.

He thrusts a single, nondescript envelope at me. It's thin and light, containing nothing but a single paper document, but I don't even need to read it. Just the words printed in neat, blocky letters across the front are enough to send an involuntary chill down my spine.

 _Certificate of Partnership_.

The final nail in the coffin. There's no escape now.

"You have six months to commence your duty," the man barks. "And the general was generous to give you even that much. Should you fail to initiate of your own free will, you will be forced to comply." He allows his coat to fall away from his hop, revealing the lethal gleam of a sidearm. The rest of the threat goes unsaid, but the intent is clear. "I suggest you do it yourself. Spectators make for an awkward affair."

"Thank you, sir," I grind out between gritted teeth. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

He sneers at me before pivoting and marching off, leaving me to fume alone. I'll have to tell Ruby, once she's back.

Yeah, that's not gonna be fun. _"By the way honey, I know you hate me, but we have to, you know, start making babies within six months. Care to start now?"_

Not to mention she's still a kid. I don't even know if I can do this.

::-::-::

 _Day 9_

 _I told Ruby, but she didn't cry or scream or rant or anything. Just nodded with a quiet "ok" and walked off._

 _It's really scary. She's nothing like how she was at Beacon. I really don't know what to do. I mean, I get that she hates me, but refusing to talk to me isn't helping at all, you know? If she's not going to be open about how she feels… well, this is going to be even more awkward that it already is. And it's pretty awkward._

 _I should probably say something, but what? "Gee, sorry for ruining your future. But don't worry, you'll have a kid soon!"_

 _Yeah. That'll work._

 _On the bright side, I got some more books. I've tried reading a couple, but it's hard. I spend most of my time doing… actually, I don't even know what. Staring. Outside, at people, whatever. I could read, or try to join Ruby on whatever trips she goes on, but I don't really want to. Don't have the energy, which is kind of funny, because I sleep like all the time._

 _Maybe I'm sick?_

 _I asked about jobs again. Still the same answer. Maybe it's better that way. I'm not ready._

::-::-::

Ruby's out again, doing I don't even know what, so when there's a knock on our door I assume it's her. The caretakers don't knock like that. They're abrasive and aggressive, with big, pounding blasts like they're trying to smash the door down. This one is poised and rhythmic. Maybe she forgot her key?

It's not Ruby.

It's actually someone I never thought I would see again.

"Weiss?" I stammer, floored with surprise.

Seeing her out of both uniform and combat clothing is jarring, like seeing something entirely out of context. Although she's kept her signature tight ponytail, a grey pea coat and white stockings under a short white skirt in lieu of her normal uniform or combat dress leave her looking far more, I don't know, vulnerable I guess. Like a normal girl out on a cold day instead of the impeccable killing machine I'm used to seeing.

"Hi, Jaune." Even her mannerisms are out of place: she glances around timidly where there would normally be confidence, hesitation where there's usually decisiveness. "May I come in? It's a little cold out here."

I open the door wide and gesture for her to enter. She steps in and I shut it behind her, the sound eliciting a relieved sigh from her lips.

"I didn't know you even felt cold," I tease. She glares at me response, and there's a rush of nostalgia at the familiarity of the exchange.

"I'm human too, believe it or not." She glances around my apartment, disapproval intensifying with every second. "This is all they gave you?"

I shrug. "Can't really complain. It's big enough for two. Ruby's not in right now, by the way."

"Just as well," she sighs. "Seeing only you again is hard enough." She must realize the implication of her words, or maybe a shade of the hurt I feel reaches my face, because she rushes to clarify. "I didn't mean it that way! I'm happy to see you. It's just… both of you at once, I… well, I… ugh. I'm no good at this."

"How'd you even find us?" I ask, sensing her discomfort. "We're supposed to be off the radar."

"SDC connections, of course," she explains, as if it was the most obvious thing in Remnant. "And it was still hard to find you. I started searching the moment I heard you'd been expelled, and only got your address two days ago." Her face twists into a grimace. "And even then it took more than a few favors to allow this meeting at all."

"Why?" I whisper. My throat constricts without warning, and I'm stricken by an overwhelming wave of emotion. Come on Jaune, get it together. Crying here would be so _lame_. What's wrong with you, anyways? "Why did you go to so much trouble?"

Weiss hesitates. "I was worried about you, actually. And, well, we're friends aren't we? I wanted to make sure you were ok. Besides… it's partly my fault you're in this mess."

"What do you mean?" I ask, eyes narrowed. If this is some convoluted conspiracy involving SDC political status or retribution for befriending Weiss, I swear…

"The training room, remember?"

… Or that.

"What about it?"

"I made you fall. What if that was the last straw, and that's why they expelled you?"

"With my horrible grades, I don't think it mattered one bit," I chuckle mirthlessly. "But while we're on the topic, why did you do it?"

"I got excited, honestly," she admits with a slight flush. It's so unexpected and uncharacteristic that I find it extremely endearing. "You two were doing so well, so I just wanted to ramp up the challenge a little. To see how you would handle it."

"Not well, unfortunately."

"It's my own fault. I pushed you too fast. That's it, though. No ulterior motives."

"I believe you," I reassure her. "Although the aftermath was a bit awkward."

"Getting expelled?"

"Nah. The _immediate_ aftermath."

Her hesitation evaporates with the onset of a sly smile. "You mean falling on Ruby? You two were pretty cute. What, you didn't enjoy it?"

So she did notice. Jerk. "No," I state firmly. "I didn't. She's a kid, Weiss. She's cute like a kid. Nothing more."

"She's only two years younger, Jaune," Weiss says, suddenly solemn. "And she's your _wife_. You can't just–"

"Enough," I interrupt.

"Jaune–"

"Enough!" I roar. "I'm done with this conversation!"

She glares at me, but nothing more. "Fine then."

I'm not going to apologize, if that's what she wants. If I don't want to talk about something, that's well within my rights. "Did you come just to chat?" I continue, as if the disagreement had never happened. "Or is there something else? Not that there needs to be. It's great just, you know, talking. And stuff."

"There is something else, if you're interested. You've yet to receive a job, correct? I might be able to set you up with something."

"Thanks, but I don't exactly need money."

"But you can always _use_ money," she insists, a businessman's daughter to the core. "The administration only covers expenses for necessities. Besides, aren't you bored by now? It'll give you something to do."

That's very true. Besides, until just a day or two ago I was begging for the chance to work. Maybe forcing myself to do it will pull me out of this random lethargy. "What did you have in mind?"

"It'll be easier just to show you," Weiss says. "There are a couple of possibilities anyways, so I'll walk you through them. You might even be able to get a job at SDC, if you want it."

"Maybe," I evade. "Not sure though."

"That's fine." She gestures towards my shoes. "Get dressed. We're going out, and it's pretty cold."

"I can't leave," I inform her. "Procedure and all. They'll arrest me if I try."

She rolls her eyes. "Who do you think I am? I got permission already, obviously. Now hurry up. I only have today to relax, and I don't want to waste it waiting for you."

"Yes, yes, your majesty," I grumble, pulling on a coat and my shoes.

"Stop calling me that," Weiss says, but it's mere ritual at this point, and she shoots me a wry smile. "Your nicknames are awful."

Ruby suddenly pops into my mind. "Hang on a sec. Let me leave a note for Ruby." It only takes a moment to leave a hasty scribble on a scrap of paper. I'm not sure where else to put it, so I just leave it on the table. "Alright. I'm ready,"

"Then let's go."

::-::-::

Founder's Plaza is only a few blocks from my apartment, and Weiss leads me down the streets in a direct beeline. Abruptly, however, she swerves down a side street, taking us into a far quieter sector. Where Founder's is bright, colorful, and state of the art, these buildings are muted and traditional, but there's a kind of steadiness that hangs in the air, as if the structures themselves could be trusted.

They feel familiar. Like old friends.

Have I been here before?

It's when we pass a cozy house of antique wood and brick that I remember. Of course. It was a while back, but I used to come here all the time with Blake. That house was our favorite. We used to guess what kind of people lived inside. I wanted to go up and knock, once, but she was even more cautious back then than she is now, and I wasn't brave enough to do it alone, so it didn't happen.

Never thought I'd be back.

As we continue down the street, the familiarity intensifies with every step, eventually culminating at the steps of a building that I know without even looking at the flowing gold script on the windows.

Tukson's Book Trade.

Blake's favorite childhood bookstore.

"How did you know?" I whisper, momentarily overwhelmed by memories. A tiny hand clasped in mine, golden eyes roving the streets, and myself leading with confidence I didn't feel. Musty old tomes mingled with the crisp scent of new print, with heavy rain beating relentless fury across the tiled roof. The easy comfort of a home away from home.

But most poignantly of all: a gentle giant of a faunus, who allowed a terrified kid and her unlikely friend to stay however long they wanted, whenever they wanted.

"I did my homework," Weiss says, a bit smugly. "I figured you wouldn't mind working here."

"Tukson's hiring? I thought he ran the shop himself."

"We wouldn't be here if he wasn't."

I glance at the windows and walls. Row after row of books are visible even in the dim lighting, but there's no sign that help is wanted.

Hang on. Weiss mentioned she had to call in some favors, before. What if our meeting wasn't the only thing she had to negotiate?

"Weiss," I ask through the tight lump in my throat. "I don't think he's hiring. Did you… did you set this up?"

She rolls her eyes and gives me a slight push from behind. "Shut up and go talk to him."

My hand moves on its own to grasp the cold bronze doorknob, but goes no further. Blake and I, we never said goodbye to Tukson. Once we hit high school, it got dangerous. Human and faunus tensions ran pretty hot, and I didn't want to bring any trouble to him.

Still, I should have at least popped in to let him know. Does he still remember me? Or worse, what if he does, and he resents our disappearance?

Maybe this is a bad idea. Weiss said she had several options, right? I shouldn't commit to this so soon, without seeing what else is out there.

"You know," I protest, "maybe we should check out the other stuff first, just to be safe–"

"Absolutely not," Weiss overrules me, and emphasizes her words with a firm shove to my back. "You are not allowed to get cold feet now. Go in immediately or I will make _sure_ you regret it."

"Aye aye, ma'am." With no way out of it, I take a deep breath and enter.

It's exactly as I remember. Stacked bookshelves are crammed into a cozy room, and warm lighting casts a pleasant glow across ages both crisp and worn. A pair of armchairs encircle a crackling fireplace. Blake in particular loved that spot, and I caught her curled up in one of the chairs like her genetic animal more than once.

"Well look at that. It really is you."

A deep, rumbling voice reverberates behind me. I turn to face it, half longing, half dreading.

"Tukson," I choke out. "Uh, long time no see."

"It's been a while. Good to see you." He tactfully chooses not to mention my sudden absence, a small gesture that I am intensely grateful for. He nods at Weiss, who stands a respectful distance behind is. "She your girlfriend?"

At that, she steps forward with a small curtsy. "Weiss Schnee. I'm just a friend. It's a pleasure to meet you in person."

"Ah. The SDC girl. I was surprised when you contacted me. Didn't think you were fond of my kind."

"An unfortunate reputation of my family, it appears."

"But perhaps well deserved," Tukson finishes. He peruses Weiss with a critical eye. Evidently he is satisfied, because he gives her a respectful nod. "You seem alright though."

"It's been quite the journey," Weiss replies ruefully.

"You're a friend of Jaune's, so that's a plus in my book." He turns his attention to me, and there's not a trace of hostility or resentment in his gaze, but I feel sweat condense across my brow. "Heard you need a job."

"Yes sir." I still can't believe this isn't a dream.

"I might be able to help you out with that." He nods towards Weiss. "Your friend here took care of a lot of the details. It's not terribly exciting work, though. Ordering books, helping customers, organizing the shelves and the like. You sure you want it?"

"I would love it," I reply without hesitation, and I mean every word.

::-::-::

 _Day 18_

 _Turns out, getting a job means the caretakers leave you with a lot more freedom. They still watch me, of course, but during normal work hours I'm allowed to travel the town without an escort, at least._

 _I told Ruby, both that I got a job and that she might want one for more freedom, and for the first time since we were expelled she looked excited. It didn't take her long to land one herself. I think she's a courier or something? I should probably ask, but now that we're working we see each other even less. Other than mentioning it, we still haven't done anything about our civil duty. I'm planning on putting it off for the full six months, or at least as long as I can._

 _Tukson is a pretty laid back boss, and the few customers we get are pretty much all pleasant and self sufficient. I'm starting to recognize the same faces. When there's nothing to do, we spend time talking and catching up on each other's lives. Apparently Blake hasn't come back to see him either, which makes me feel a little better about myself. He says the job's boring, but I find it more relaxing than anything. It's nice._

 _It's pretty much a break from the rest of my life._

 _I still don't know what to do about Ruby. Maybe I should just apologize or something, but it's just so weak. How can words make up for what I've taken from her? Besides, she's really avoiding me, so she's only making it harder._

 _I just wish there was some way out of this mess._

::-::-::

I'm behind the counter of Tukson's Book Trade when the chime of bells signify the entrance of a customer. Although the stacked books prevent me from getting a clear view, the bright yellow hair that pokes above the obstruction marks the owner as a new customer. The ones I know all have dark hair.

"Welcome to–" I begin to call out, but cut myself short. Right. Bad habit. Tukson says I have to make eye contact with customers. Shouting from the back is no good.

I maneuver around until I come face to face with him. He's a tall faunus with an infectious smile and shining blue eyes to compliment his hair, and an open white shirt shows off a set of killer abs. He's definitely not someone I would expect to see in a bookstore, but who am I to judge?

"Welcome to Tukson's Book Trade," I recite, "home to every book under the sun. Can I help you?"

"I'm actually not here for books," he replies, "but a friend of mine wanted to say hi."

I glance behind him, but there's no one there.

"Uh, is he here?"

"Not he," the faunus corrects, "she. And yeah, she's right behind you."

On cue, I feel a familiar light tap on my shoulder, and even before I turn around I know that a pair of golden eyes will be waiting for me.

"Boo," Blake deadpans.

I can't keep a wide smile from breaking across my face. "No way. How did _you_ find me too?"

"A friend of yours might have dropped a tip," Blake says. "A pretty _chill_ friend."

"I'll have to thank her."

"You should. She's not what I would have expected, given her family. You got lucky that she's not like the rest of them."

I nod in agreement. Very lucky indeed. Weiss has given me so much more than I can ever give back.

"Hey, so uh, before you two go all philosophical on me," the gold hair faunus interrupts, "you mind introducing me?"

"Jaune, Sun. Sun, Jaune," Blake says, putting no effort into sounding even remotely engaged.

"I'm Jaune Arc," I offer a hand to Sun, biting back a chuckle as Blake's dismissal drops him into an exaggeratedly mournful posture. "Blake's oldest friend. Or one of them, anyways."

He clasps my hand in his own, his grip firm and warm. "Sun Wukong. I'm Blake's partner in the White Fang."

"And that's it," Blake comments. "Work partners. Nothing more."

I quirk an eyebrow. "Nothing more?"

Sun sighs. "Not by choice, let me tell you. I keep asking her out, but she shoots me down every time."

"And complaining about it to anyone who will listen is not helping your chances _at all_ ," Blake snipes.

"Yeah, I feel you, man. She's a handful." Against my better judgement, I go along with Sun. I'm rewarded by a brilliant, boyish grin.

"I know, right? If I wasn't so thick skinned she could have really hurt my feelings by now."

"If you two don't shut up," Blake growls, finally sounding irritated, "I will hurt both of you. Badly."

"Yes ma'am," we recite in sync. "Sorry ma'am."

Yeah, I'm going to get along with this guy just fine.

Drawn by the sound of our conversation, Tukson pops out from the storage closet he had been cataloging books in. He doesn't outright smile when he sees Blake, but I've spent enough time with him to recognize the subtleties of his emotions. His eyes crinkle in a way that only happens when he's really happy.

"Well if it isn't my favorite kitten. It's been a while. You're a lot bigger now."

Blake rolls her eyes, but her quivering ears betray her true emotions. "Hi, Big T. Sorry I never dropped by. High school was a mess."

"So I hear," he responds with a nod to me. I filled him in on some of the details during our chats. Not everything, though. That was a bad time. "Don't worry about it. It's just good to see you again."

"Wait, wait, wait," Sun cuts in. " _Kitten?_ Best. Nickname."

"Big T gets to call me that. No one else does. _Especially_ not you."

"Back to the drawing board, then," Sun mourns. "I really need a nickname for you."

"I'll help you out," I chime in. "I've been told I come up with amazing nicknames."

"Oh yeah? Got any ideas?"

"Uh," I stall. "Fuzzball?"

"Kind of offensive, don't you think?"

"Hmm. Good point."

"How about Goddess of Shadow?" Sun offers.

"No, no. Too long and too…"

"Edgy?"

"Yeah, maybe."

"Alright, that's it." Blake grabs Sun by the shirt and begins to bodily drag him towards the door. "Too much stupidity in one place. We're done."

"My new brother," Sun cries out. "Save me!"

I deny him with a remorseful shake of my head. "Sorry bro, no can do. She'll just kill me too, but don't worry. I'll honor your heroic sacrifice."

"I don't need honor! I need heeeeelp!"

"Bye, Big T," Blake calls out once they're halfway through the door. "I'll come back sometime. Without this idiot."

"See you then. Come anytime."

"Blake, hang on." At my words, she shoves Sun outside and turns back in the doorway, leaving us with at least a facsimile of privacy. "Seriously, I'm glad you're ok. Thanks for dropping by."

Away from prying eyes, she offers me a half smile. "Same for you. I wasn't sure what happened to you once you got expelled." Sun must be behind her, because she lashes out with her foot without warning, drawing a cry of pain from her unfortunate partner. "Don't worry about me," she continues unabashedly. "I'm in good hands. Like I've said before, the Fang take care of their own, and Sun makes up for his intelligence with his combat skill."

"I dunno," I tease. "He seems pretty smart to me."

"Of course _you_ would think so."

I let the insult slide with a wry grin. "See you around, Blake. Stay safe." _Or at least as safe as you can in the White Fang._

"Don't worry. Nothing's going to happen to me."

::-::-::

 _Day 47_

 _Life seems to be settling, somewhat. Honestly, I can't believe how fortunate I've been. I have work that I more or less enjoy, friends that are able to drop by often, and so much else. As an aura wielder. It's mind boggling. All that's left is to work out everything with Ruby…_

 _I've tried to talk to her a couple times, but I keep chickening out. Like, I open my mouth and no sound comes out. It's pretty bad. I mean, yeah, we've talked, but it's awkward small chatter. You know, about how our days went and how work was and everything. Nothing really meaningful, though. It's like getting expelled drove this massive chasm between us, and I don't know how to bridge it. Maybe it can't be done._

 _It's getting worse, too. I can barely even look at her now, because every time I do that stupid training room accident keeps popping to mind and I just… don't want to deal with it. Any of it. Not now. Not when I still have a few more months._

 _Some things just take time, right? Like, there are natural ups and downs to life. It's hard right now because I'm just not ready. but I will be, someday. I'll do it then._

 _Weiss comes over almost every weekend, but most of the time she just drags Ruby out to do whatever girls do on their days off. Honestly, it's better that way. She can help Ruby out more than I ever will. And hey, while they're out doing girl–things, I've got plenty of books to go through now thanks to Tukson._

 _My favorite series at the moment is about a peerless female champion who falls in love with a dense, hapless, but well intentioned knight. Something about the knight is just easy to relate to. He feels kind of familiar._

 _The caretakers are backing off, too, at least a little bit. I think they've realized Ruby and I aren't planning to rebel, so they're not as worried about controlling us. Or who knows, maybe Weiss scared them into giving us more breathing room. Or maybe Blake did. I know a couple of them are terrified of the White Fang, and she's good at intimidating people without saying a word._

 _I dunno. I expected this life to be really hard, but it hasn't been too bad._

 _Maybe everything will be ok._

 **A/N:**

BOOM. Five days, and my longest chapter yet. The change of setting helped me a ton, apparently.

Also, the huge response to last chapter was a great motivator, so thanks for all the reviews and PMs and such!

You know, if this wasn't Lancaster, I would totally make it a Weiss/Jaune fic. They have an easy chemistry I really wasn't expecting. Maybe Jaune isn't so crazy in canon after all.

There was a wide range of reactions to Ironwood last chapter, which is awesome. Just like real life, dealing with complicated issues leaves room for a lot of different opinions. I will say this, however, for those who hate him (or felt I murdered his character): he has a large part of the responsibility for what remains of humanity resting on his shoulders. The hunter system works, more or less, at least for the majority of people. Anybody trying to break it is, in his view, jeopardizing all of humanity (and faunus, actually).

Just something to think about.

Oh, a random note. Some of you reviewers seem to believe that you have to wait a full week after the newest episode comes out in order to watch it. If you go to the RT website, though, you can actually watch it the day after (Sunday for me), even for free. You just need an account, but not a subscription.


	8. Chapter 8

Ruby's out really, really late.

Normally, I wouldn't worry. It's pretty common for me to get home first. I'm not sure exactly what hours she works, but in the morning when I leave for Tukson's, the door to the bedroom is closed, and when I return I usually come back to an empty house. By the time I finish cooking dinner, though (I do most of that – Ruby's a horrible cook), she's always been back.

But not this time. Dinner came and went hours ago, but no sign of her. I texted her a few times, then tried calling when that failed, but no response.

My fingers absently tap in another call to her scroll. I don't expect it to work. It doesn't.

Did – did she run away? Just got tired of living with an inescapable reminder of what she lost? If she did, she won't last long. If the administration doesn't find her, the grimm will, and either way she'll die a horrible death.

No, that doesn't sound right. All our time at Beacon tells me she probably wouldn't do that. But how could I know? When it comes down to it, do I really know her at all? Maybe this was coming for weeks, and I just never recognized the signs, all because I never took the initiative to talk to her. Because when it comes down to it, we're still practically strangers.

Why didn't I? Awkwardness? How petty.

 _It's not awkwardness._

 _It's guilt, and you know it._

But how could I take initiative of any kind when she goes to such lengths to avoid me? I don't even know why she's gone. Work, I assume. But what does a courier even do? Just… run around or something?

How can I not even know that?

Because she never told me. Just like she never told me why she's gone. Just like she hasn't told me _anything_ since we've been expelled.

I glance at the glowing digital clock set against the opposite wall. 2:35 glares back in red, judgemental pulses. There's a window next to it, but I can hardly see it, shrouded as it is in the pitch black night. The only break in the endless darkness is the faint flicker of the light outside our door. I should turn it off. After curfew, we're not even supposed to have lights on. The Council says it's for our own safety, that leaving lights gives room for troublemakers and ruffians to bring the Grimm down on all of us. I just don't want Ruby to have to come back to a dark, desolate home.

 _If she comes back at all._

Eventually, I flick the switch and the light dies. I don't know when she'll be back. I can't risk getting us in trouble anymore. I'll just stay up and wait for her.

Just… wait. No… problem. Maybe we can finally… talk.

Before I know it, my exhaustion overpowers my anxiety, and I'm out like that one little light.

::-::-::

A muffled squeak brings me crashing back to awareness with a startled gasp and panicked flailing. When did I fall asleep?

"Who's there?" I query, squinting into the darkness.

"Jaune?" Ruby's voice echoes back. It's strained, like she's forcing the words out through clenched teeth. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. Just go back to sleep, I'll be in bed in a minute."

She's at the table, outline barely visible, illuminated only by the red glow of the clock. 4:57.

"Where have you been?" I ask, the sleep fading from my body, chased out by her return."It's so late. And I…"

 _Missed you._

"Was worried. I didn't have any idea where you were."

"Sorry about that," she says with a weak laugh. "Work went, uh, a little late."

"Ruby."

"Ok, _very_ late," she amends. "But it won't happen again, I promise, so just–"

"You know you're a terrible liar, right?" I swing to my feet from my position on the couch, fumbling for the light switch I know is somewhere around. "What are you doing, anyways?"

"Nothing, nothing!" she squeaks. "Just dropped something, that's all. Trying to find it. Go back to sleep! It's really late, and–"

My clumsy fingers finally find the switch. I flick it on, and our room is bathed in harsh white light, blinding compared to the darkness that we had just been in. I blink the spots out of my eyes. The first thing I notice is that Ruby is huddled in a ball at the corner of the table, back turned towards me and one arm clutching another against her chest.

I walk towards her, footfalls heavy in the sudden silence. "Are you alright?"

"Don't look!" she cries out, voice thick with desperation.

"What's going on?" Ignoring her protests, I grab her shoulder and twist her around. She puts up a weak struggle at first, but then gives in. I frown when I realize she refuses to look at me, but a flash of scarlet against her hand draws my attention to where she still clutches one arm to her chest.

Blood.

A _lot_ of blood.

"Sweet Grimm spawn," I breathe.

The sleeve of the black long sleeved shirt she's wearing is torn to minuscule shreds, doing nothing to obscure my sight to the flesh below. It's stained dark red with both dried and fresh blood, but three long, jagged, parallel furrows stand out against the crusty mess, carved into her arm from almost wrist to shoulder. The fact that Ruby's even alive means they must be shallow, or she would have bled out just trying to get back. No doubt her aura had something to do with that.

But as nasty as the injuries are, it's the source that gives me the most concern. I might have been a failure at Beacon, but even I can recognize beowolf wounds when I see them.

"I did say not to look," Ruby whimpers.

"How did you–" I begin, voice trembling like a leaf in jet exhaust, but I cut myself off with a shake of my head. "No, never mind. Tell me later. We need to get you to a doctor, fast." It's so late though… are hospitals even open? Surely there has to be some emergency room or urgent care that could take care of her, right?

"No!" Ruby cries out. "Please, no. You can't."

"What? Why? There's no way we can leave something like that," I wave toward her arm for emphasis, "untreated."

"You just can't," Ruby evades. "Not a hospital. Please."

Her earnest plea catches me off guard. I don't know why she's so adamant, but it's obviously a big deal to her. I shouldn't force her if I don't know why. But I can't just leave her like that. I mean, infection would be horrible, at the very least, and maybe something even worse could happen. I don't know. I don't know anything about medicine.

Wait. I think I saw a medical kit buried somewhere in our closet.

"Alright, alright. No doctor," I acquiesce. "But we can't just leave it like that. Hang on a second."

I dash over to the closet and rummage through it. Various packages and boxes I never remember seeing are tossed aside in my haste, until my hands finally close around a white, plastic box marked with a red cross.

I drag it over to the table, where Ruby has obediently taken a seat.

"Hold out your arm," I command. She obeys, but an involuntary wince springs to her face at the movement.

"Owie."

"This is crazy," I mutter. "I have no idea what I'm doing."

Something is probably better than nothing though, right? Right. Now if only I had paid attention during health class… although if they had covered how to treat Grimm related injuries I probably would have.

I whip out a disinfecting spray and apply it liberally to the three wounds. Ruby whimpers softly, but doesn't pull away.

"Sorry," I reassure her. "I know it stings."

"S'okay."

It doesn't take long to cover her arm with the mist. Great. Uh, what next? Bandage it, I guess?

I pull out a roll of gauze that I desperately hope is meant to be used for bandaging. Hang on, everything in these kits is sterilized, right? I'll have to buy another one later.

Focus, Jaune. That doesn't matter right now.

I wrap the gauze around Ruby's arm as gingerly as I can. It sticks to itself without resistance, and I heave an internal sigh of relief. If it wasn't the exact right thing, it's probably close enough.

Unfortunately, with her injury treated, there is no longer anything delaying the inevitable extremely awkward conversation. Neither of us can make eye contact with the other.

"Right," I begin. "Um, how does it feel?"

"It's fine," she replies softly. "Thanks."

A billion questions race through my mind. _Where have you been? Why do you have Grimm wounds, of all things? Why did you try to hide it from me?_

 _Why didn't you trust me enough to ask for help?_

What eventually spills out, though, is "Why didn't you want to see a doctor?"

She hesitates for a long, long time. "They would have asked questions."

 _Yeah, and no wonder!_

"I mean, injuries like that don't just _happen_ ," I protest. "It's from a beowolf's claws, isn't it." It's not a question.

"... Maybe."

"And why were you anywhere near a beowolf?" There's no Grimm in Vale. The state messes a lot of stuff up, but security isn't one of them.

"I told you already," she mutters petulantly. "It was for work."

"Being a courier."

"Yep. For the SDC, actually."

"And does your job regularly involve the Grimm?" I demand, voice rising. I fight it back down when she tenses up. I can't get angry. It won't help. "Because that sure doesn't sound like just package delivery."

She says nothing, but she finally makes eye contact with me, and the rebellious tilt of her chin tells me that her defensiveness is only intensifying.

"Ruby," I coax, doing my best to be gentle, to fight down my rising frustration. "Please. I need to know."

"It _is_ package delivery," she finally speaks. "Kind of. But the mail service does most of the normal stuff, so the only things left to deliver are really urgent… or a little dangerous."

"So you have to go outside the city?" If she is, a _little_ dangerous is an extreme understatement.

"... Sometimes."

This doesn't make any sense. Why would she even be allowed to do something so risky? She's probably the most powerful individual of our entire generation, or at least one of them. For the administration to be willing to risk her is–

Unless they don't know.

"Your job _is_ legal, right?" I ask, dreading the answer. If she's doing this illegally… We're going to be in such a mess.

"Yes!" she rushes to reassure me. "Well, uh, normally. I mean, not that this one was _illegal_ , it just wasn't strictly speaking perfectly _legal_ either."

"Oh Mother of Grimm," I swear, settling into the couch when it feels like my legs will give way. "Why? Why would you do it?"

"Well, the dangerous missions pay more, cuz no one wants to do them. And, you know, I'm fast, so I figured it'd be easy to run them and then we'd have a lot more money and–"

"We don't need money, Ruby!" I snap. Doesn't she understand how dangerous this is? "Not if it gets you hurt! You almost _died!_ " If that claw had gone even an inch deeper, if her aura was even a little less potent… the human body can't spare that much blood.

She would just be… gone. Disappeared into the night. And I would never even know why.

"I'm fine!" she insists. "My aura will take care of it. Besides, the other ones all went smoothly, this one was just–"

That gets my attention. I spring to my feet so violently that I almost lose my balance, but it does nothing to slow the coming tirade. " _Other_ ones? You mean you've done more than one?!"

"Yeah," she protests, "but they weren't a problem!"

I just don't _get_ her. At all! Why can't she see that what she's doing is absolutely insane? "Well this one obviously was! Why are you putting yourself in danger? You don't get second chances if you screw up! Is money so important to you that–"

Oh. Of course.

"... It's not about money at all, is it?"

Because danger? Danger's a thrill. And all she ever wanted was to be a hero, but she never got the chance. So what better way to compromise then to take a job no sane person would ever want?

In the end, it all comes back to me, doesn't it? Back to my failure.

"It is," she insists weakly. "Well, at least a little."

I wish she would just scream at me. Blame me for everything, whatever. At least we could get it all in the open, anything other than this dancing around, constantly avoiding each other and telling little half-lies, as if those are less hurtful than the truth. Because I already know. I _know_ it's my fault, but acting like that doesn't help at all! I tried my hardest, I'm _trying_ my hardest, but she's not giving me anything to work with, she just keeps running and running and _running_ –

I don't say that. Any of it.

But even though I don't, the hurt creeps into my tone, and I can't keep my shaking hands from screaming my agitation. "Just a little? What's the rest of truth, then?"

She recoils as if I had slapped her, eyes dangerously bright. "I'm — I'm not lying!"

"No, but it's not the whole truth, is it? You almost died, Ruby! You're running Oum knows how many missions through Grimm infested territory, and you expect me to believe it's for a little extra lien?"

A single tear rolls down her cheek, but it's solitude doesn't last long. The sight takes the edge off of my fristration, replaced instead by guilt. I have to stay calm. She's a kid, we're both exhausted, and no matter how frustrated I may be, losing myself is only going to make things worse.

"Ruby, please," I coax. "You have to quit this job if it's going to put you in so much danger. We're partners now, and—"

" _Partners,"_ she cries, voice shaking. "Why do you always call us that? What is it even supposed to mean?"

"It means that we were paired by the state," I yell, not caring when she shrinks away from me, but although her body screams fear her silver eyes snap from sadness to fury. "Because that's exactly what we are, whether you want it or not, and–"

"Whether _I_ want it or not?" she interrupts, heat blazing through her voice for the first time, and for me, it's the last straw.

"And what are you trying to imply?!" I'm practically screaming now, voice raw with weeks and weeks of pent up confusion, frustration, guilt. Just everything.

It's the wrong move. Completely the wrong move. She shuts down and withdraws, face going blank. "Nothing," she states, voice dead. "Forget I said anything. Just leave me alone. I'm going to bed." She turns and marches away, taking great care not to look at me. "Good night."

I could reach out to stop her, say something, get everything straightened out right now, but I don't. I'm scared of what I would do right now. My control teeters on a knife's edge, and I don't know what would happen if it shatters.

So she breezes past me, and I let her.

And suddenly I'm left in the void with nothing but my rolling emotions and endless turmoil. I can't even think. Ruby, me, the world, it's all just _wrong_. I don't know what to blame. Everything's just screwed up.

Maybe my ears deceive me, but in the deathly silence I pick up the faintest whispers of strangled sobs.

I don't investigate.

I'm lucky I don't have work tomorrow. There's no way I could focus.

By the time I finally fall asleep, the sun is peeking over the horizon like a blinding orb of judgement, and the light is the last thing I want.

::-::-::

You'd think that after such a nasty disagreement, we'd want some time away from each other. Well, you'd be right. We would. Do. Whatever. But life doesn't work that way. In fact, it pretty much goes out of its way to spite me.

So when the typical ruthless pounding on my door signals the arrival of my _favorite_ caretaker, I'm not even surprised.

I open the door in silence, too tired to say a word. My eyes are thick with exhaustion and unshed emotion, the lids dragging like lead weights.

"Morning, gorgeous," the caretaker drawls. "Got a present for you."

"Oh, goody. My favorite."

"Where's the wife?" he sneers. "I wanted to say _hello_ , you know. A little cutie like her ought to–"

A white hot surge of sudden anger drives my hands into action before I can even think. They close around the collar of his shirt, and I ram him up against the outside wall, hard, fists white with the strength of my grip.

"Give. Me. The. Package. And. Get. Out." I snarl, face only inches away from him. The stink of his breath fills my nostrils, but that only encourages me to push harder.

If it hurts him, he gives no sign. "So you have a spine after all," he comments, sneer transitioned into a savage grin. "Put me down, kid. Can't give nothin' to you like this."

I drop him reluctantly. Much to my disappointment, he regains his footing with easy grace before reaching into his pocket and holding out yet another crisp white envelope. This one bears the council's seal: a giant fist over a raging sea. I snatch it from his hands, doing my best to draw the sharp edge across his flesh. It just bounces off ridges of hardened calluses.

"Don't you dare touch me again, kid," the caretaker warns. "Once was funny. You're not gonna like what happens if you do it twice."

I slam the door in his face as my reply, the impact rattling the frame. Heavy footfalls combined with raucous laughter signal his departure, and I collapse against the door as if his presence was the only thing giving strength to my legs. Am I crazy? I just assaulted a caretaker. For no reason other than…

Yeah, I'm crazy.

I glance at the envelope in my hand before slitting it open and pulling out the paper inside. It only takes two seconds of reading to elicit an exhausted groan. You have _got_ to be kidding me.

My doom is pronounced in perfectly straight block letters on creamy white paper. _Partner Suitability Development._ In other words, mandatory date number two, here we come.

Right on cue, my heart leaps into my throat when the door to the bedroom bursts open and Ruby darts out in a blur of rose petals.

"Mornin' Jaune!" she chirps.

"Uh, morning," I stumble over my words, still discombobulated. The letter was a surprise, yeah, but the bigger shock is her complete one eighty in demeanor. Only a few hours ago, we had been ready to bite each other's heads off, and now she's back to normal as if nothing had happened.

No, not quite. Maybe nobody else would notice, but I can feel the tense edge that subtly poisons every second we share. I wish it wasn't, but it's there. But maybe if we both ignore it, it'll just disappear. Some things just need time, right?

I certainly don't want to bring it up. Not yet.

"Sorry, gotta run," she mutters around a piece of bread that's magically appeared in her mouth. "Late for work. I'll talk to you tonight?"

"Isn't it a weekend?"

"Yup. The SDC is running emergency shifts. I guess Grimm attacks have been even worse or somethin'. Everyone really wants dust now."

She's halfway out the door in the blink of an eye, but I reach out and snatch her arm before she's gone. "Wait a second." I shove the letter into her hand. She peruses it curiously until her eyes go wide.

"The caretakers dropped by," I continue while she reads. "We have a date at five tonight. At the Hall of Heroic Endeavors."

Her brow creases in concern, and her gaze whips uncertainly between my face and the paper in her hand. "I dunno if I can get off work in time…"

"Don't think we have any choice," I say ruefully. "If we ditch we'll be in serious trouble."

She gives a reluctant nod. "Yeah, you're right. Ok, I'll be there." She hesitates, before turning and giving me a brief hug. "I'll see you later?"

I return her hug, and a little bit of the tension bleeds away. It's only a little, but it's something. "See you. Be–" should I say it? "Be safe."

"I will," she reassures me. "I… I talked to my boss. Earlier this morning. Nothing dangerous this time. I promise."

 _This_ time. We're not done talking about this, not by a long shot, but at least for now there's a ceasefire. Honestly, the fact that she went out of her way to contact her boss births a little ball of warmth in the pit of my stomach.

I give her a gentle push, nodding my head towards the open door. "You're gonna be late."

One final squeeze, and then she's gone.

Which leaves me only a couple hours to figure out how to mitigate a disaster.

See, I remember the last date and how, uh… yeah. Let's just say I don't want to repeat it. Not to mention there's more pressure on the line this time. The caretakers are probably upset with us, because they chose the location this time. I'm willing to bet a hefty sum of lien that we'll have an escort, obvious or subtle, and if they're not satisfied with the results, everything's only going to get more restrictive.

They're going to do everything we can to force us to have a good time. Or at least put on a convincing enough show. Can't have the hope symbols of Vale walking around looking miserable, you know. Bad for the morale of the normal people, and bad morale means more Grimm attacks. At least this way, everyone can delude themselves into believing we're all happy, _everyone,_ the people, the breeders, and the hunters alike, and society can close its eyes and ears and go on with an off-key merry tune.

Yeesh. What a creepy place. _Hall of Heroic Endeavors?_ Sounds like some kind of arena or something.

Anyways, unless I want even more control coming down on me, botching this isn't really going to be a great option, so I better take all the advice I can get. I don't exactly have any past experience to rely on, but I know exactly who to ask. Someone with an entire lifetime of navigating social experiences.

I punch the number into my scroll. It's answered at the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Weiss," I say. "You free today? Because I could really use a huge favor."

::-::-::

It takes a while to argue my case to the caretakers, but eventually they agree to let me go shopping in preparation for the later date. I'm certain that Weiss's influence as the Schnee heiress played an extremely large part in their decision.

After a short walk, we're browsing the storefronts, hoping that something will pop out as a suitable addition to the coming event. Well, I'm browsing, at least. Weiss is mostly complaining.

"I don't know why you asked _me_ for help, of all people," Weiss grumbles as we meander the shops of Founder's. "I'm not any more experienced in these matters than you are."

"I didn't have any better choice," I moan. "So thanks for taking the time to help me. You have to have _some_ idea about what I should be doing for this thing. More than me, at least."

She huffs in irritation, the movement so exaggerated it sends her bangs flying every which way. "Well I don't. You didn't have _any_ other girl to ask?"

"Uh, Blake I guess? But, well…"

"... Yes, I can see how that might be a problem." She rests her face in her hand in what I'm beginning to realize is her 'help-I-have-to-deal-with-Jaune' posture. "Alright, fine. I'll do my best, but don't expect too much. I seriously don't know much of anything about dating normally, let alone what to do with the state breathing down your neck."

"I thought you knew everything," I tease.

She rolls her eyes. "Everything _useful_."

"You really have no experience? I would have guessed tons of guys asked you out."

"Asked me out? Yes," she agrees. "Got anywhere? Absolutely not. They were all money grubbing idiots after my family name." Her face twists into revulsion at the memories. "Or my face. If I was lucky."

I wince in sympathy. "Sounds tough."

"I got used to it, I suppose."

"Still sounds tough. I never had to deal with anything like that. Girls, uh, weren't interested in me. At all. And I asked quite a few."

"Is that so?" She pauses to study my face. "I don't see why not. You're a nice enough guy, and not bad looking."

"It's _me,_ Weiss. Mister Definition-of-Awkward. If I could string two words together talking to a girl it was a minor miracle."

"Maybe you were before. Not anymore."

I blink in bemusement a couple of times. Not the answer I was expecting. "Sorry?"

"You've changed a lot," she explains, "even since Beacon, and you matured plenty during your weeks there. Let's be honest; you were an intolerable buffoon when I first met you."

I clasp my hand to my heart before sinking to the ground with a dramatic groan. "Have mercy on my ego, snow angel."

She shudders at the nickname. "I can't believe you ever called me that. See how much you've grown?"

"At least I said it as a joke. Can you imagine how bad it would be if I actually meant it?"

"Yes."

"Good thing I didn't, then." Now that I think about it, my Report only happened a few months ago… but it may as well been a few lifetimes. That Jaune Arc died the day his aura was discovered. "A lot's happened," I muse. "I guess I didn't have a choice but to grow. But am I really that different?"

She gapes at me on open mouthed shock. "You seriously didn't notice? Alright, I'll give you an obvious, easy example. You said you couldn't talk to girls in high school, right? We're talking just fine right now, and I'm a girl, aren't I?" She glares at me before a word leaves my lips. "And don't you _dare_ suggest otherwise."

"Yes you are, and you're a very pretty one," I agree, cold sweat condensing on the back of my neck.

She gives me a deathly sweet smile. The cold sweat intensifies. "Good man. See? Just do the same thing with Ruby. You'll be fine."

Ruby… yeah, I don't have a great track record of talking with her recently. "If I don't blow it again."

She actually pauses in the middle of the bustling street to glance at me out of the corner of her eye. "I take it something happened?"

"Uh, yeah, you could say that."

Weiss grabs my hand without an ounce of hesitation and yanks me through the streets until we come to a large, bubbling fountain in the middle of blocks and blocks of restaurants. Shaded tables are strewn around the structures to provide a place for any customers taking a break from frenzied shopping to grab a bite to eat. She drags me over to an unoccupied one on the edge of the clearing and shoves me into a chair before taking a seat opposite.

"Alright. What happened?"

"It's not really _that_ big of a deal," I hedge.

She rolls her eyes. "It was bad enough that I could tell something was wrong since we first met up today. Tell me what happened. Now."

It was that noticeable? I must be more of a mess than I thought. "Alright, alright." Despite my agreement, it's a struggle forcing the words out of my mouth. To admit that what actually happened, happened. "Ruby and I had a fight last night. About her job. It's just… I don't know. I feel terrible about it."

"It was bound to happen eventually. You're really stressed, Jaune," Weiss says, with more gentleness than I knew she was capable of. "You've been under an enormous amount of pressure and change. It's not surprising you might… lose a little control."

"Not really an excuse, though. I was a huge jerk."

She shrugs. "If you feel that way, then go do something about it."

I nod reluctantly, and she takes that as permission to change the subject.

"What were you two fighting about, anyways? And I know it's her job, so please don't waste my time with _that_ as an answer, but what's the specific problem?"

Hang on a second. Wasn't Weiss the one who helped Ruby find her job? Did she know that it involves so much danger?

"You set Ruby up, right? For her job, I mean."

"I put her in touch with the appropriate people, yes," Weiss confirms. "What does that have to do with it?"

"She came back last night badly injured," I state bluntly. Her eyes widen in shock, but she doesn't interrupt. "Beowolf wounds on her arm, all the way up to her shoulder. She almost bled out."

"Impossible," Weiss gasps.

"And yeah, I didn't take it well, and I guess she didn't take my not taking it well very well." I pause. "Wait, did that make any sense at all?"

"No, but just go on."

"That's all there is. I wanted her to quit, she didn't want to, we fought." My eyes narrow. "Actually, why did you give her such a dangerous job?"

"I didn't!" Weiss protests vehemently. "She was just supposed to be running packages between SDC facilities when bad traffic causes large detours. Everything is in Vale. It should have been perfectly safe." She's lost in thought for a moment, but suddenly she goes stiff and her voice turns frigid. "Unless…"

"Unless what?" I prompt.

"SDC does have facilities outside the city. Military outposts, automated mining operations, research sites, that kind of thing. But trips to those locations are normally done with military force or drones. Ruby should have been well away from them…" She slams the table without warning, causing me to jump in my seat. "Unless a certain brat did something he wasn't supposed to. I'm going to _kill_ him."

"Who?"

"I'm not completely sure. I only have my suspicions. I'll deal with it and let you know." She shoots to her feet and strides off, back into Founder's plaza. "It's not important right now. Come on. We need to figure out how to get you ready for tonight."

::-::-::

Once we're back into the commercial centers, Weiss slows, then stalls, glancing at each garish storefront with glazed eyes. I take the lead, tugging gently on her arm to get her moving before she's jostled by irate shoppers.

"You alright?" I call back.

"Yes," she murmurs, still sounding dazed. "I'm sorry. The noise, the colors, it's all a bit overwhelming."

I understand. When I first came here as a kid, Founder's totally freaked me out. It's not just the crowds and the noise, although the cacophony of a thousand human voices mixed with dozens of different songs blaring from nearby stores would be disorienting enough on its own. As bad as they are, though, the worst part of it is… I don't know, the atmosphere. Founder's lives and breathes its own personality, and the aggression and lightning pace makes the unending stimuli even worse. Friendliness is a struggle and patience a rarity, and you definitely feel it.

"Welcome to Founders," I joke. "First time?"

When she turns her face away from me to hide a slight blush, it's so unexpected that I blurt the first thing that comes to mind. "Wait, is it _actually_ your first time here?"

"Well I never needed to come!" Weiss snaps, all but confirming my suspicions. "My butler bought anything I required."

"But you can't do everything from home. Didn't you ever want to go clothes shopping or something? You gotta browse what's out there and try things on, stuff like that, right?" It would be understandable if she preferred smaller shops in the quieter districts, but from the sound of it, she hasn't even done that.

"Why would I?" Weiss says, eyes drilling a hole into the ground at her feet. "My father chose everything I wore. Otherwise, there was too much risk that I would bring dishonor to the family from poor taste or misreading social expectations. Even if I had bought anything, I would have had to get rid of it."

I… I don't even have it that bad, do I? I thought the caretakers were restrictive enough. I mean, I had to argue with them for ten minutes just to leave my apartment a few hours early. Weiss's childhood though, that's a whole other level. The kind of man that wouldn't even let his kids choose their own clothes wouldn't exactly be open to a _lot_ of things. What else did I take for granted that she never dreamed of experiencing?

If you look hard enough, you can always find someone worse off, I guess. I didn't even need to look that hard.

When she realized she had aura, was that actually liberating? While the rest of us cursed the life to come, was she thankful for the little bit of freedom she would finally be afforded?

I thought so poorly of her at first, at Beacon, because of how she treated Ruby. Yeah, it was wrong. But maybe she didn't know any other way.

"Well, you'll get to choose now," I declare confidently. "Beacon lets you wear what you like off duty, right? We should go find something you like."

"Aren't we here to prepare for your date?" She quips. "I'm doing just fine, thank you very much. My butler has chosen several suitable outfits for me."

"Like that one?" I nod toward her clothes.

"Precisely. Thank you for your concern, but there's no need for it."

I shrug. "Well, if you ever want to pick something yourself for fun or whatever, let me know. I know most of the shops here."

"And dare I ask how you've achieved such remarkable knowledge?" Weiss asks with a mocking half–smile.

"My sisters used to drag me out here all the time. Only guy, you know. They made me carry everything." Maybe I should buy something like chocolate or flowers? Gifts are nice, right? But I've never seen Ruby even eat chocolate except in cookies, so I have no idea if she likes it, and the Hall probably doesn't allow food anyways. And where would we put flowers? And am I supposed to wear something in particular? I have… pretty much nothing outside of normal street clothes. Nice stuff wasn't exactly a high priority for the caretakers, and we weren't allowed to keep our Beacon stuff for obvious reasons.

I can't believe this. I spent eighteen years with multiple sisters, and I have no idea how to act or prep for a date? What did they even teach me?

Actually, I don't want to remember. Too many traumatic memories, mostly involving hair curlers, coercion, blackmail, and clothes I was, uh, poorly suited for. At least once I got older it mellowed out to just coercion and blackmail. Far more manageable.

"Wait, you have sisters?" Weiss comments.

I nod. "Seven, actually."

She throws her hands into the air, a brief frustrated scream tearing itself from her throat. "Well why didn't you ask them for help?!"

I wish I could, Weiss. I really wish I could. There's a lot of painful things about my position, but family is the worst of all. I lie awake at night sometimes, tormented by the echoes of conversations I never finished and memories forever lost, by traditions I'll never repeat and love forever lost. Maybe I'll be able to see them again. Maybe the caretakers won't be so kind.

"I can't contact family for a year, remember?" I choke out through a tightening throat. "If they let me do it at all. We don't all have fathers in charge of multi billion lien companies." How ironic. The one with the father powerful enough to bend rules and talk to her couldn't leave him fast enough, and the one who would give anything to see his family again has no power to do so.

She takes a step back, features wrought into a clear admission of guilt. "... Right. I'm – I'm sorry. It slipped my mind."

I work against the tight, stubborn ball of resentment in my gut. It was nothing but a temporary thoughtlessness. "It's alright. Guess we both have family problems, huh?" Besides, I'm not exactly faultless. I shouldn't have mentioned her father.

"Quite a few, yes," Weiss admits, "but Ruby isn't going to be one of them. Come on. Maybe if we keep looking, something will jump out."

Except that I'm still not sure what I should even be looking for. "Something? Like, something I should do or something I should buy?"

Weiss strides confidently onward, her posture a humorous contrast to her ignorance. "I don't know, so I sure hope it's obvious."

A few hours later, with our time short and our brains devoid of ideas, we came to a very logical conclusion.

It wasn't obvious.

"Any chance you saw something and chose not to mention it?" The only thing more feeble than my hope is my smile.

She shakes her head, too despondent to summon even her trademark sarcasm. "Of course not."

"Should we give up then?"

"No choice," Weiss says, waving her scroll meaningfully. "You're out of time. Maybe we're focusing on the wrong thing. Is what you bring or wear really that important?"

"I don't know," I groan, "but if it isn't I wish you had said something a few hours earlier."

"You didn't think of it either," Weiss accuses, but her exhaustion robs the heat from it. "Look, just go be yourself or something. You're awful at anything else and she's stuck with you anyways, so you might as well get her used to it."

"But what does being myself even mean?"

"I don't know. Don't worry about it. I would say 'don't be dumb,' but that's more or less your defining characteristic." She checks her scroll again. "I need to leave. The next flight to Beacon is in twenty minutes."

"Alright." I give her a short bow. It's stiff and awkward and I have no idea how far to go or how long to hold it, but hopefully she takes the good intention rather than the bad execution. "Thanks so much for helping me out. If you ever need anything, let me know. I owe you a ton of favors."

"Your firstborn child will do," she drawls, but I can see her eyes are sparkling and her mouth twitches with a suppressed smile. "Let me visit and play with her. Or him, if you're unlucky."

"I'm sure Ruby won't complain."

She turns away. "Good luck, Jaune. Let me know how it goes. Don't worry about being a dork, you can't help it."

"See ya."

And then she's gone, and I have ten more minutes to panic before the hour of my death arrives.

Ugh, I really hope this goes well. If I have to deal with that one jerk even more than I already do, something very messy is going to happen.

 **A/N:**

Depending on your point of view, this chapter, specifically Jaune and Ruby's argument, might be the biggest offender of "out of character" so far.

It's pretty hard, though, because in canon we don't really see a whole lot of serious disagreement (there's Blake and Yang in S2, I guess), which means that I have to extrapolate on how a serious disagreement would actually go. Personally, I think there's reasonable hints within canon that Ruby and Jaune would act this way (defensive/passive-aggressive vs. straightforward but hesitant and clumsy/insensitive, whereas Blake and Yang for example are avoidant and blunt/aggressive respectively), but you are free to disagree.

If anyone is curious, I would be happy to expand on my rationale, but I'm trying to get away from miniature essays in the author's notes.

All that being said, thank you guys for all the feedback, both positive and negative. I'm impressed with how insightful some of the reviews have been.

Happy Thanksgiving, for those of you who celebrate it (like me). Hope you enjoy this chapter, and see you next one.

EDIT: As one review in particular helped me realize, I think the argument at the beginning was a bit too OOC. While I stand by my intentions and interpretation, the execution was off, so I've made some changes that I think help a lot.

Thanks for your correction, whoever it was who reviewed, although I wish you had left a name so that I could let you know I've changed stuff.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Rather than the bloodstained arena I envisioned, _The Hall of Heroic Endeavors_ is a pretty normal modern museum, even if it is on the nice end. Tall glass doors, sparkling electronics and shining black marble differentiate it from the run down brick or even wood buildings that hail back to Vale's earliest days, but there's no sign of mortal combat or other such oddities. I'm not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.

As expected, a team of four men and two women stand vigilant at the entrance, dressed in the dark reds and greens of Vale's 'police' force. The Council calls them the Peacekeepers, but we all know better. They keep the peace, alright, but their methods are nowhere as lofty as their name.

Once I approach, one of them steps forward, a folded bundle of clothing in his arms.

"Mister Arc," he greets, words clipped and coldly professional. "It is good you made it on time." He holds the clothes out to me, and I instantly recognize it as a dark blue Hunter's dress uniform, typically used for parades and other intent is obvious. Go in obviously dressed like hunters, act appropriately romantic, heroic, and happy, inspire the common people, and leave. "Wear this," he continues. "You are to meet your mate in five minutes. There are bathrooms adjacent to the museum. You may change there. Within the uniform shirt pocket is a piece of paper. That is your itinerary for this exercise. You are to follow it closely."

It's a good thing that Weiss and I didn't buy anything, then. I should have guessed that they would want to show me and Ruby off. She probably has to wear a matching uniform. Not too similar, though. Can't have all of us hunters and breeders looking exactly the same. And an itinerary? We can't even choose what to look at or for how long?

Once I've changed, the peacekeepers bustle me inside. Small groups of people meander the halls, enough that the museum feels occupied, but far from reaching any kind of capacity. Ruby is waiting just beyons the doors, eyes roving the hall with childish wonder. When she notices me, she waves enthusiastically, and the peacekeepers behind and beside me disperse, giving us a facade of privacy.

"Jaune! Over here!"

Rather than the uniform I expected, she's wearing the red and black combat dress I haven't seen on her since Beacon, but with some new modifications I can't quite put my finger on, but I can tell something's different then before. Compared to the simple clothes I've gotten used to seeing her wear, it makes her seem older. Not just a child, but sleek, competent, professional.

Dangerous.

"They let you wear that?" I blurt out. So much for making us match. Gah, I wish I had something to wear that didn't make me feel like a tall, gangly peacock.

She giggles. "Crazy, right? I had to wear this for work today, and I came straight here afterwards. My boss put in a word for me, so they let me keep it. One guy looked so mad about it."

"I can imagine. You probably broke more rules in that one instant than he's broken his entire life."

"Probably. SDC employee, woo!" She looks me up and down before finishing with a shy smile. "Blue suits you. You look sharp."

The unexpected compliment brings a rush of heat to my face. I cough to hide my embarrassment and glance away. "Uh, thanks. You too. Sharp that is, not blue. Although I'm sure blue would be great for you too. Maybe a little ironic though, cuz your name is Ruby and all, and, uh..." Good job, Jaune. Real smooth.

She laughs. "I get it, Jaune. Thanks." Her bright smile and pink cheeks leave no doubt she took my aimless rambling as a compliment, which is good, because if I tried to explain myself at this point I would probably just make it worse.

"Get a move on, you two," a furious voice growls behind us. One of the caretakers trails us, having swapped his eye catching uniform for more normal clothes and a pair of shades. "You have two minutes to enter the first exhibit."

"Already? But we just got here!" I moan with an exaggerated shake of my head, more to irritate the man behind me than from any genuine feeling of disappointment. "I mean, where else am I going to recite my twenty line romantic poem?"

"I'm sure we can find someplace," Ruby joins in, silver eyes twinkling with suppressed mirth. I can almost hear the man's jaw creaking with agitation. "But do you even have a twenty line romantic poem?"

"Nope," I admit freely. "My poetry, uh, isn't the greatest."

"Aww. Too bad." Apparently unbothered by my lack of poetic talent, she spins in front of me before settling into a dramatic pose, one finger pointed imperiously down the hall that leads to the first exhibit. "Come, my knight-dashing in armor-shining! Let us depart for lands hitherto unknown! Glory awaits!"

"As you command, my–" I try to imitate her exuberant speech, but I'm interrupted by a crippling fit of coughing as my throat protests the rough treatment. "My liege," I finally gasp out.

And then I make a huge mistake.

With everything going well, especially compared to all I had stressed over while planning with Weiss, I let my guard down. Begin to genuinely enjoy myself, lost sight of all the danger I was navigating, and forgot the unaddressed landmine under my feet.

So when Ruby takes my hand, I don't see it coming.

For one brief, brief moment, our hands are nestled together, hers small and warm and soft against my larger and rougher one, still cold from the crisp late autumn chill.

A pleasant thrill jolts up my spine, and maybe I'm crazy, but I can hear echoes of song in the depths of my soul, like my aura itself resonates with hers at the contact, the two of us melody and harmony.

But then some other part of me takes control, a part that screams _no_ with every fiber of its being, and I jerk violently away, severing our contact, and the moment dies with it.

"Sorry!" Ruby cries out, and her newfound energy dissipates in an instant, replaced by the nervous and subsued girl I've lived with for the past few months, her silver eyes averted in shame. "I'm really sorry. I – I shouldn't have done that."

Come on, Jaune. There was absolutely no reason for that. Why did you react that way? All she wants is to hold your hand. Besides, you have to put on a show for the people, pretend you're happy and in love and all that. Holding hands is part of that.

But logic can't argue against what wasn't logical in the first place. I didn't think about dodging away. It just happened.

"No, I'm sorry," I say, trying to convince myself more than her. "You just… caught me off guard." I extend my hand toward her, deliberately this time. "Round two?"

She shakes her head and smiles at me, but a cloaked sadness pollutes what should have been joyful. "It's alright. I'm fine. Sorry to surprise you."

 _Great. Less than five minutes and I've already blown it._

With sharp commands hissed under their breath, the caretakers guide us into the first exhibit, a winding hallway containing a series of rooms, each hidden by a thick red curtain. The exhibit is even more sparsely occupied than the already quiet entrance; the only other inhabitant is an elderly man perusing one of the exhibit descriptions engraved on a bronze plate beside one of the curtains. Ruby throws him a cheery wave, and he responds with a curt nod before ambling off down the hall.

At yet another barked command from our caretakers, who are still tailing us from barely out of sight, Ruby and I enter through the now-vacated curtain, into a cozy room of plush red carpet and golden tassels. Three glass display cases each occupy one of the walls, and a holoscreen hangs ominously over the largest case directly opposite us, a looping documentary clip depicting soldiers and hunters struggling with the Grimm acting out its endless cycles in the air above. Ruby moves to get a better look at the holoscreen, but I opt to study the cases instead. They're filled with plastic figurines of men, machines, and Grimm, an artificial recreation of some historic battle. A series of adjacent plaque lend some much needed context to the scene.

 _A Crisis Averted: The Patch Evacuation._

Oh. This is really recent history, then. Ruby probably remembers a lot of it.

The plaques give a long and detailed explanation about the unprecedented waves of Grimm that overran Patch, along with several theories as to the source, and a whole lot of other information that I skim over, overwhelmed by the quantity of information, until one particular passage rivets my attention.

 _Although Patch was nearly a disaster, the timely and heroic intervention of the Hunter Corp and the 17th, 22nd, and 28th brigades drove the Grimm back long enough for military transports to evacuate the populace, with only minimal casualties. The Battle for Patch illustrates an important lesson: rapid reaction and well trained men can overcome even the most unexpected of Grimm attacks, and Patch is remembered and celebrated as one of the greatest victories of our time._

I was young back then, but even so the story the museum is trying to pitch clashes horribly with what I remember of the event. My parents did their best to hide it from my sisters and I, but I remember the haunted horror that sometimes overtook them when they came home from a long day of work. The Council cracked down to keep news from leaking to the populace, but the Patch Disaster was just too big, with too many people involved, to keep everything under wraps. People were there, and people talked, even if they had to whisper in the darkest corners of the night to get away with it.

"So that's what they said happened?" Ruby murmurs behind me, startling me out of my memories. When I shoot her a quizzical look, she elaborates. "It's– what's written there? It's not true."

"Yeah. I definitely don't remember it being so… successful."

"Patch was a disaster," Ruby drones, eyes glazed and unblinking. She begins a robotic recitation of fact after fact with the practiced mastery of one consumed by them. "Nobody was ready. The troops that got there in time were untrained. The Hunters got split up when they tried to land. Everyone was decimated."

"Ruby," I try to interrupt, but she plods forward irregardless, every word falling in step.

"And the military couldn't scrape enough transports together. Most of the ships were civilian pilots who risked their lives to save those they could. But – but a lot of people got left behind anyways." She pauses, her eyes completely unfocused by now, and I suddenly realize she's trembling, trapped in a nightmare of memories. She might be here, but her mind is a hundred miles away, on a little island where the streets are overrun with death and the hills spit flame in desperate defiance that wanes with every second and rubble intermixes with bloody corpses and shattered machines in equal measure.

"Ruby!" I snap, shaking her shoulder with more force than I intended. Although I feel a little bad for the way she's jostled to and fro from my hands, it's quickly overruled by relief when she blinks and the life comes back to her eyes.

"Sorry," she apologizes yet again.

"Are you alright?" I ask. I realize it's a dumb question as soon as the words are out. Of _course_ she's not alright, not while she's standing in the middle of a brutal reminder of the event that took everything from her. What little family she had left, what friends she might have made – all gone in an instant. Even worse, rather than acknowledge it and mourn it is a tragedy, the state's twisted it into some fictitious tale of salvaging victory from the jaws of disaster, disrespecting the sacrifice that was paid for every life that survived that night. "No, what I mean is–"

"It's okay," Ruby says, weak and faint at first, but growing stronger with every word. "This place just… brings some bad memories back."

"If…" I begin, knowing what I want to say but not sure how to say it, "if you ever want to talk about it, I'm here. And willing to listen. I'd be happy to, in fact."

She shakes her head. "Thanks, but I'm fine, really. Patch and all that, it doesn't bother me anymore."

There's no way that can be true, though. Memories like that always leave a mark, right? I study her closely for her usual signs of lying: the way she averts her gaze, the way she pivots uncomfortably from foot to foot, all the little tells she has that make her usual attempts to deceive miserable failures.

I find none of them.

"Besides," she continues, and _now_ I know she's not being honest because all of a sudden she turns so she doesn't have to look at me, "I don't really remember that much, anyways."

I haven't decided if I want to challenge her or not when my scroll buzzes. When I pull it out, the words _'next room'_ flash across the screen.

These caretakers are making this whole date thing really, really difficult right now.

"Didja get that too?" Ruby asks.

"Yup."

Inconvenient timing? Very much so. But maybe it's just as well. I think both of us are more than done with this place, and neither of us want to think about it, even if it means shoving some things under the rug.

::-::-::

After several more rooms of smaller exhibits, our invisible guides lead us into a spacious thoroughfare, illuminated by the late afternoon sun through the massive glass panels that compose the roof. The wall space not taken up by the multitude of doors and exit ways into other parts of the museum is lined with antique posters and small screens playing out battles between Hunters and Grimm in stunning detail. If we lived in some alternate realm where humanity actually won most of those battles, they might even look realistic. In contrast to the quieter sectors from which we had just come from, small groups of schoolchildren and families pass through on their way to some exhibit or another, and a few pause to admire their surroundings.

None of it matters to Ruby. I've only turned away for half a second before she's flown halfway down the hall, so quickly in certain her semblance was involved, until she's parked before a tall, metallic statue. I rush to catch up, and once I'm close enough and I have a better angle, I realize she's not looking at just a statue, but in fact a full size mech. It stands on a pedestal, surrounded by a red rope to keep spectators out and a sign bearing the words "please do not touch." I've seen a Paladin mech once, during a parade, but this one is smaller, scrawnier, even though the design is otherwise similar.

"I can't believe it!" Ruby gushes, silver eyes sparkling with excitement. "They have the original prototype Sentinel-class mech! Oh, isn't she _beautiful_?"

"Sentinel class?" I haven't heard of them at all. Before my time? Maybe my parents would know.

"Yup! The Sentinels were the first mass-produced mechs capable of using dust boosted ammunition without tearing the gun apart." Or, well, maybe Ruby would know. "They saved a ton of battles when they were first deployed, and they're pretty much the great grandparents of today's Paladin!" She pauses for a deep breath and leans over the rope to gently caress the leg of the mech. "Oh, I would kill to get my hands on one of these! Grimm, that is. Kill Grimm. Dunno if I would kill people. I'd have to think about it."

"Please stay behind the red rope!" a museum attendant calls out, but his pleas fall on deaf ears.

Ruby's gaze cranes upward towards the massive machine gun the mech holds aloft. The thing probably weighs as much as she does, if not more. It's a pretty comical sight, actually; she's leaned so far over I have no idea how she hasn't fallen on her face, but her head is tilted to look straight up. That can't be comfortable. "Oooh, no way! The prototype uses 12.7 millimeter ammo, but the standard designs swapped to 7.92. I wonder if it's because–"

She babbles on in total bliss, oblivious to the increasingly heated warnings wafting over from various museum workers, and I rapidly lose track off the constant stream of technospeak and military references.

"Ruby," I finally chime in, pulling on her hood to choke off the ceaseless flow of words. "I hate to interrupt you, but there are a lot of very unhappy employees glaring at us right now."

"Oh!" she squeaks, face bright red once she realizes the sheer volume of attention she's generated, not only from workers but also from random passersby, their expressions ranging from disapproval to amusement. "Oh boy. Right. Um. Hi everyone! Just pretend you didn't see – or hear – anything? Please?"

I let out a startled gasp when she barrels into me, bodily dragging me away with all the force her petite frame can manage.

"Aaaand that's our ticket to leave," she blusters, face bright red. "Not super excited about the whole staring thing."

I lead her away to a nearby bench, which proves to be a difficult task, since she won't stop trying to use me as a human shield. "In their defense, you were being pretty loud." A petite fist slams into my chest with unexpected force. "Ow! What was that for?"

"You're supposed to be sticking up for me!"

"Ok, ok," I chuckle, "I'm sorry."

"Meanie."

Once we take a seat and it becomes impossible for her to hide behind me, she settles against my shoulder instead. I don't mind, at first; she's soft and warm and it's anything but unpleasant, but as time drags on I grow more and more, I don't know, _aware_ that she's there, which makes no sense because she's been there the whole time. But it's like her presence just gets stronger and stronger, until it swallows up my awareness, and all I can pay attention to is the rhythm of her breathing and the warmth against my shoulder and the faint scent of strawberries in her hair and–

I make the mistake of turning my head, and her face is _right there_. Her eyes are closed, but I take in every detail instantly, how small and peaceful and innocent and straight up _cute_ she is, and my heart skips a beat and–

And–

I jerk away, leaving her to barely catch herself before she smacks against the wood, a startled squeak her only protest against my actions.

"Jaune?" she asks, concern radiating from her in waves. "Is something wrong?"

"No!" _Yes! You're driving me insane and I don't know why!_ "Sorry. I must have fallen asleep," I lie, breath coming in heavy gasps.

She regards me suspiciously, before her eyes widen in realization. "Riiight. Sorry! I forgot you don't–" she cuts herself off without warning.

"I don't what?" I prompt. I don't know what she's thinking, but I get the bad feeling we're not on the same page.

"Nothing!" The words rush out of her mouth far too quickly for them to be true. "Just thinking aloud. You're fine. Great! Nothing wrong."

"Ruby–"

My scroll vibrates yet again, cutting me off. A single word blinks across the screen, sending icy tendrils of dread spiraling through my chest.

 _Kiss._

Oh, screw that. It's one thing to micromanage every minute of our time here, but that? That's going too far. I'll kiss her when I'm good and ready, thank you very much, and I'm not, so I won't.

I stuff the scroll back into my pocket, resolutely ignoring it when it vibrates unceasingly, until it finally rests silent. I'm sure I'll pay later, but I'm sick and tired of their interference. I'll just make up some excuse about how I saw the message late or something.

Except the message goes to Ruby's scroll as well. She glances at it, then at me, before quietly shoving it back into the pouch at her belt. I expect her to say something, maybe criticize me for my rebellion or suggest that we follow orders, but to my surprise, she says nothing.

I open my mouth to explain why I'm ignoring them, maybe to apologize to her, but the words won't come. It feels too complicated to try to justify, because I'm not even sure myself.

Luckily for me, she doesn't push for answers. She suddenly whirls around, attention drawn further down the hall. "Hey, Jaune." She points, and I strain to follow her motion through the people that constantly block my view. "Do you see that kid?"

Once a path clears enough for me to get a good look, it's hard to miss her. She can't be more than four or five, but she walks with a grace that belies her age. Every movement is graceful, controlled, poised, nothing like what a young child should be. Brilliant red hair spills down her back in a messy ponytail, adding to the attention that she naturally commands. You can't help but watch her when you notice her, and sure enough, other passersby glance at her uncertainly as they walk by. Not a single one moves to talk to her.

"Yeah, I see her. Why?"

"I think she's lost."

The girl turns back and forth, pacing aggressively from side to side, as if she desperately wants to move on, but something chains her to the same patch of ground. Her gaze whips around the hall, looking for something – or someone – she cannot find.

"I think you're right."

"I'm going to go make sure she's ok," Ruby declares, and before I can protest she's striding purposefully towards the young girl, flowing through and around the foot traffic effortlessly. I follow after her, although my approach involves a whole lot more clumsiness, a near collision, and several hurried apologies.

Once I finally make my way over, Ruby's already knelt down to talk to the girl face to face. I'm not sure what else I should do, so I stand awkwardly a few feet away. It would be bad to intimidate the girl further when she's clearly already wound up.

Ruby speaks gently, with a calm, soothing tone that catches me off guard. I've heard happy, sad, sorry, even angry, but not this. It seems at odds with both forms of Ruby I know, both the cheery girl I knew at Beacon as well as the… other one I've come to know now. This is a Ruby I've never seen, the one that spent years as a surrogate older sister in a cramped orphanage, with dozens and dozens of younger children to take care of whether she wanted to or not.

"Hi there. Are you okay? Are you lost?"

The young girl freezes in her pacing, verdant green eyes bouncing between Ruby and the rest of the hall, unsure of how to react to the red cloaked stranger in front of her.

"Don't worry, I just want to make sure you're alright," Ruby explains.

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers." Although the girl hesitates to even say that, it's clear that the poise she exhibits extends to her speech as well. While she lilts and trips over words like any young child, there's an eloquence and a thoughtfulness in the delivery of her words that wouldn't be out of place on someone much older.

Ruby smiles, not at all off put by the rejection. "Oh? That's very smart of you. Well, okay then, how about I talk, and you can just nod or shake your head. That way, you don't have to talk to me."

Um, Ruby, I don't think it works like that.

The girl ponders the option for a while, eyes rolled skyward, then nods.

Or, well, maybe it does.

"Great! Um, let me see… is anyone else with you? Are you here with your mommy?"

She shakes her head twice.

"No? How about your daddy?"

Same thing.

"No? Um, a teacher then?"

She thinks about that one for a while, then shrugs. Ok, I get nodding and shaking, but what's a shrug supposed to mean? 'I don't know if he's a teacher?'

Ruby, thankfully, picks up on the child's intent much better than I do. "Hmm? So he's kind of a teacher, but not really? Or is it a she?"

The girl holds up one tiny finger.

"He, then." Ruby starts to rise to her feet, but without warning, the girl latches onto her arm, keeping her from going any further. "I'm just going to go ask the museum people to find him, okay? Or do you want me to stay with you?"

The girl hugs Ruby's arm tight, green eyes trained through her lashes. Despite the maturity she radiated, she's still a little kid, and getting lost is always terrifying. Ruby might be a stranger, but at least she's shown herself to be kind, and kids are surprisingly good at sensing people's intentions.

Ruby leads the girl to a bench, lifting her up when she struggles to drag her tiny frame onto the wood. "Okay, I'll stay here. Can you tell me your name?" She points to me, and I wave, pasting a smile on my face I hope looks mostly genuine. "Then Mister Jaune over there can go find your teacher for you."

"...Pyrrha," the girl says, evidently deciding that Ruby is a suitable exception to the talking-to-strangers-rule.

I wave an employee over and begin explaining the situation, but the exchange only lasts for a few moments until he departs to search for the child's parents, and we're quiet enough that I can still catch the conversation going on behind me.

"Pyrrha? That's a very pretty name. I'm Ruby!"

"Hi," Pyrrha replies, and I can hear the coy smile in her voice, even if I can't see her face. "I like your name too."

"Why thank you! That's very nice of you. How old are you, Pyrrha?"

"I'm five and a half."

What is she even doing here? Judging from the people around us, _The Hall of Heroic Endeavors_ is primarily meant for young teenagers and children who are almost there. It's definitely not for kids as young as Pyrrha. I mean, I don't think she's even tall enough to see many of the exhibits.

"Are you here for school?" Ruby asks, unconcerned with the apparent unlikelihood of that being the case. "Is that why you're with your kind-of-teacher?"

Pyrrha shakes her head again, but there's a lot more energy to the motion than there was before, and her timid uncertainty has all but vanished. "He's not my teacher. He says he's Uncle James. But he's not really my uncle. He's my… my… garden."

"Garden?" Ruby pauses, her impeccable translation temporarily confounded, but it doesn't take her long to figure it out. "You mean guardian?"

Pyrrha nods emphatically. "Yeah! But what does gardee-en mean?"

"It means that he takes care of you."

Pyrrha ponders that for a while, before coming to a conclusion with childlike clarity. "Like a mommy and daddy?"

"Yes, like that," Ruby acknowledges, but there's a sad taint to her smile and her cheeriness is forced. My own heart twists, because I know what's coming.

Kids with living parents don't need other guardians.

"My mommy and daddy can't take care of me. They're dead. That's why Uncle James has to do it," Pyrrha states matter-of-factly.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Ruby says, but neither of us are surprised. Orphans are anything but rare. This one was lucky; she at least had someone to take care of her afterwards.

Pyrrha shrugs, tiny shoulders rising and falling in the awkward swell that only a child can do. "It's ok. Uncle James takes good care of me. He's very strong."

"I'm sure he is," Ruby replies. "Is he the strongest? Like–" she holds her arms wide. "Thiiiiiis strong?"

"Even more stronger," Pyrrha declares solemnly, "because he's a good guy. My teacher says good things happen to good people. That's why he's strong. But I don't think she's right."

"That would be nice, but the world doesn't always work that way." Ruby murmurs.

"My mommy and daddy were good people too, but they still died," Pyrrha agrees. "That's why she's not right."

It's spine chilling how calmly she says it, like she was just telling us what she ate for breakfast. Maybe it's because she's too young to understand what she's saying, but I don't think it's that simple. Nothing I've seen from her makes me think of childish innocence.

"That's why I'm going to be even more stronger than they were," Pyrrha continues. "Even more than Uncle James, until I'm the most strongest of all. Then nobody else will have to die."

"That's a great goal," Ruby says, with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "But remember to take care of yourself, too. It would be sad if you got hurt."

Pyrrha shakes her head, and for the first time her mask cracks as her tiny voice trembles. "I can't be weak. Because… because if I'm weak…"

She doesn't finish the sentence, but Ruby knows what she means, because she wraps the young girl in a tight hug.

"Can I tell you a little secret?" she says, only relinquishing the hug in favor of coming face to face with Pyrrha.

Pyrrha nods.

"My mommy and daddy are dead too."

"Do you miss them?" The tiny redhead asks after a thoughtful pause.

"Lots," Ruby admits. "Lots and lots."

"I miss mine lots, too." Pyrrha sniffs, and a single tear rolls down her cheek, before she rubs furiously at her eyes, as if she could scrub away all the grief and shock and tragedy, as long as she tried hard enough. Ruby strokes her hair gently.

"Hey, hey, it's alright," she croons, "it's okay to cry. Crying helps you feel better."

"No," Pyrrha insists, mastering her emotions through supernatural will. A chill courses through me at how quickly and easily she does it, even as such a young child. "I have to be strong. Uncle James says so, too."

I'm getting less and less good vibes from this 'Uncle James,' even if Pyrrha seems to look up to him.

The employee I talked to earlier returns from his quest, and motions for me to follow. I leave Ruby behind to comfort Pyrrha and follow the employee through a smaller side hall marked 'employees only.' He leads me through a maze of nondescript rooms before we enter a spartan conference room. The room's sole occupant looms by a window opposite the door, a tall, imposing man, one so dominating he radiates power and control, even while seated in one of the cheap plastic chairs circling the table. He turns as I enter. My blood freezes when I see his face.

"G–general Ironwood," I gulp. _This_ is the 'Uncle James' that Pyrrha was talking about? Why on Remnant would the head of the Vale council be taking care of a five year old girl?

He regards me coolly, but there is no trace of the outright hostility from our last meeting. "Mister Arc. I'm glad to see you are well. Please, take a seat."

"Oh, ah, yes, of course. Seat. No problem." I oblige, too nervous from both his presence and the aftermath of our last meeting to do otherwise. Ironwood mirrors me.

"How are you adjusting?" He continues. "I assume your lodgings are suitable?"

"Fine! Very fine. The finest. Thank you sir," I squawk.

"Good. I understand that your new life may take some getting used to, but for the good of Vale you must do your part."

The good of Vale. Two fairly normal kids, torn from their previous lives because of a simple number on Remnant's cruelest test, forced into a relationship neither of them want, the rest of their lives structured and restricted, all for the good of Vale. "Yes sir."

"Have you initiated your duties with your wife?"

I really wish that everyone would stop bringing that up. Not that I can say that to General Ironwood of all people. "...Not yet."

"Hmm," Ironwood hums, expression carefully guarded. "Don't delay. I promised Glynda you would receive six months deferment, but you will get no more. Obtaining even that much for you was quite the struggle. The administration does not usually grant exceptions."

He went through trouble to help us out? I always assumed that he just got his way with whatever he wants. Why would he bother to help us if it brings him such inconvenience? Shouldn't he be furious we're breaking the rules yet again? "Thanks. Thanks a lot, actually. It means a lot."

He's a hard one to read, skilled as he is in navigating through Vale's politics, but even so I don't sense anything antagonistic from him. If anything, it's emotionless interest, like I'm an insect in an experiment and he just wants the results. "As long as you understand. I will be very put out if you misuse my good will."

He leaves the threat hanging. I don't ask him to elaborate. "If you don't mind me asking, sir," I ask hesitantly, "why did you want to talk to me? Is something wrong?"

"Am I not allowed to speak to whomever I choose? But you are right. We have other matters to attend to." He raps on the table, summoning one of the peacekeepers that had been so militantly following me and Ruby. "Bring the two girls here."

The peacekeeper bows and departs, leaving us in silence. It's not long before the pitter patter of tiny feet along the quieter strides of slightly larger ones signals the arrival of Pyrrha and Ruby. The younger girl clutches my partner's hand, but she lets go in order to bow to Ironwood when she walks in.

"Hi, Uncle James."

"Pyrrha," he says in a gentle rumble. "I thought I told you to stay close to me. It's not safe for you to wander on your own."

"I'm sorry. I got lost because I went to look at the sen...sen...sen-tin-uhl. It's huge!"

"Yes it is, but even if you like it, it is more important that you obey." His eyes flicker to Ruby, then back to Pyrrha. "But we can talk about that later. Go wait outside, please. Burg is there, so play with him. I'll be out in a second."

She toddles out, but her drooping shoulders and hunched posture make it clear she's upset about her shortcomings. Ruby steps forward to fill the gap, fists clenched.

"She's just a kid."

Ironwood motions towards the chair next to me. Ruby takes a seat, but her eyes never leave his. "And so it is all the more important she learn obedience. Nonetheless, I must extend my thanks for finding her."

Ruby ignores his half-sincere gratitude. "She looks up to you, you know. She was telling me all about how strong you are."

"There are worse role models to have."

There's something that's been bothering me. Why would Ironwood, with all he has to do, bother to take the time to adopt a little orphan?

Ruby's wondering the same thing, but unlike me, she's angry enough to ask it, silver eyes quietly blazing even though she manages to keep her voice calm. "Do you care about her at all? Or is she just another powerful little orphan girl for you to use?"

 _Like me_ goes unspoken, but we all hear it.

"I do what I must to ensure Vale's survival, Miss Arc, and I make no apologies for it. Not for Pyrrha, and not for you."

"Powerful?" I cut in. I mean, sure, she's mature and unusually eloquent for a child, but that alone isn't an indication of aura potential. The strength of your brain isn't the same thing as the strength of your soul.

Ruby, however, has come to a different conclusion. "Super powerful. Jaune, she has aura _already._ Couldn't you feel it? When I held her… I dunno, it was just weird. She felt so familiar, like it was my own aura, almost."

I stare at her blankly. No, I couldn't feel it, but I'm not exactly sure what I should have been looking for. I never got that close to her, anyways, and if my Report was anything to go by aura detection needs proximity. My shortcomings aside, however, there's an even bigger obstacle to Ruby's claim. It's just not possible for Pyrrha to have aura.

"But that can't be right," I protest. "She's way too young." Aura doesn't manifest until the late teens. That's why the Report happens at young adulthood. It's an impossibility that goes against everything we know about how it–

An impossibility?

Like the impossibility that a clueless, regular guy born to two regular parents with seven regular sisters happens to be one of the most powerful people of his generation?

Because that one's all too real.

"It's very, very rare," Ironwood says. "But not impossible. In fact, you're very familiar with another example."

Familiar with another example? Pyrrha's early aura is somehow linked with her strength, or at least I think that's what he's suggesting. Who else do I know is a ridiculously strong–

Oh. Of course.

We both turn to Ruby, who has suddenly found the stained surface of the table to be fascinating.

"How old were you when your aura manifested?" Ironwood asks.

"... Nine."

What…? Even though that's a lot older than Pyrrha, that's still unbelievably young. I mean, even if she had only just recently manifested aura, fifteen is still the youngest I've heard of for an aura bearer, let alone nine.

Rather than surprise, however, Ironwood just nods, as if nine was exactly what he expected. "I guessed as much."

I look to Ruby for explanation, but she's only grown more withdrawn in the face of Ironwood's questioning. I don't think she even notices me.

"Patch gave as well as took from you, it seems," Ironwood murmurs.

Her head snaps up at that, eyes blazing with a potent concoction of barely constrained tears and fury.

"With all due respect, sir," I interrupt, placing a calming hand on Ruby's shoulder. "You still haven't explained what you've called us here for. Is there something you want from us?"

He says nothing for a long while. It's not until Ruby's tightly coiled tension slowly relaxes under my touch that he speaks. "You've already given it to me."

"... Sorry, what?"

He rises without further comment and strides away. "We are finished here. Enjoy the rest of your day. Once again, I thank you on Pyrrha's behalf." He pauses in the doorframe to address one parting remark to me. "You may want to pay better attention to the exhibits. I find them to be a good reminder." He gestures towards one of the walls, and now that he's brought my attention to it I can see there's another plaque, barely visible in the dim light. "That one in particular is worth your attention. It's not open to the public."

As soon as he's gone, Ruby lets out a shaky sigh.

"You must think I'm crazy."

"Maybe a little bit," I admit. "You really don't like him, huh? Long history?"

"Yeah, a little bit. It's not like I really hate him, either. He just… brings out the worst of me." She leaps to her feet, holding out a hand to help me up. "Well, at least it's over! What do you want to do next?" She sounds cheerful, even managing to paste a silly grin on her face, but although I might be a bit dense, I can still tell it's forced.

"What is there left to do?" I ask absently. I make my way over to the wall that Ironwood pointed out earlier, the general's words driving me forward with morbid curiosity.

"Weeeell–" Ruby checks her scroll. "We only have an hour left. If you're hungry, we can get food, or there's–"

Her voice fades into an incomprehensible hum as the words on the plaque draw my attention.

 _We see all._

::-::-::

Ruby has to support me as we leave the interrogation room, since my knees have turned to jelly in the aftermath of our confrontation with Ironwood. Once I'm free of the oppressive atmosphere, it only takes a few deep breaths to regain my composure, but if I'm honest, the plaque's message rattled me. I willfully disobeyed Peacekeeper orders earlier by refusing to kiss Ruby. It was insanity to take the threat of retribution so lightly. I can't brush it off. They'll know I'm lying if I say I didn't see it.

"Any ideas on what to do?" she asks. I kind of expected her to ask what's bothering me, but she doesn't. Maybe she saw the writing herself. If she did, it hasn't affected her, or at least not like it has for me.

"No, not really." I flash a sheepish grin, or at least my best attempt at one. "Sorry, didn't hear your suggestions earlier. I was a bit distracted. Is there anything you prefer?"

"I wouldn't mind looking at the sentinel again." She studies me for a moment, then shakes her head. I'm probably still visibly distressed. "Actually, never mind. Wanna just chat?"

I take a moment to muse over it, but I don't have any better suggestions, and after the hectic scramble of the day something slower sounds nice. "That'd be great. It feels like it's been forever."

We meander over to a quieter section of the museum, where the din of conversation and travel diminishes to the faintest of whispers.

Hmm. Now what?

"You were really great with Pyrrha." I blurt the first thing that comes to mind, but it's no less sincere for the impulse. She was amazing, because it's not just what you say around kids, it's how you say it and how you act, and that's an art form I have no talent for.

"Oh! Thanks." She laughs awkwardly, one hand coming up to scratch the back of her head. "Orphanage, you know. Lots of kids. And I was one of the oldest, so… lots of practice."

She's told me that before, but I think she's selling herself short, anyways. Merely spending time around kids doesn't make you good with them.

"Still amazing. You'll be a great mom, someday."

… Did I just…?

Yeah, I just said that. Good job, Jaune. Remember that thing you were trying very hard _not_ to think about? Now we're both thinking about it. Very smooth.

Her cheeks flush a pale pink. "U-um, thanks. We… you know, have to do that soon, by the way. Since… well, yeah."

"Soon, soon," I reassure her, but there's no heart in it. I'm delaying the inevitable, and we both know it… but I just can't help myself. I never wanted this. "I'm just not ready yet. To be a dad… or anything else."

"Don't worry about it. You'll be great!"

"How do you know?" I've never been a great anything, not even the easy stuff. Something as hard as being a dad? Crazy.

"Because you're a good guy," Ruby says without a shade of doubt. "Even if you don't see it."

 _A good guy, huh? Even though we fought? Even though I hurt you? Even though I wish with every fiber of my being that I could be somewhere, anywhere else?_

"You sound like Pyrrha," I tease.

"Well she's great too," Ruby declares with a grin, "so that works for me!" Her mode shifts into seriousness without warning, face furrowed in concentration. "Speaking of Pyrrha… this is kind of a weird question, but what color were her eyes?"

What? Where did that come from? "Weren't they green?"

"I thought so too, but once I was closer to her… I dunno, that's not what I saw."

"Well, what did you see?"

She hesitates. "I'm probably just going crazy."

"Just tell me. I'm curious."

"I… I was sure they were silver. Exactly like mine."

::-::-::

 **A/N:**

Yes, I am playing with ages, but you guys already knew that from Yang. This one's even more dramatic, though.

And as you've no doubt guessed by now, there's a reason for it.

Sorry about the long update delay. This chapter was a lot harder to write than I expected, and I'm still not fully satisfied with it. Finals are this week, so hopefully I'll have more time/energy after that.

Also, we surpassed 400 favs, 600 follows, and 230 reviews, which is absolutely mind blowing and way more than I ever would have guessed when I first started writing. Thanks for all your support everyone, and thanks for sticking around this long. It's only going to get better.


	10. Interlude 1

**Interlude 1**

The desolate shards of Remnant's shattered moon had risen hours ago by the time an exhausted General Ironwood was allowed to sink into his office chair for the first time that day. Not that he would ever admit to anybody he was tired, but he had to privately admit that the workload was taking a toll on him. The new project to develop subterranean farms in Mountain Glenn's winding tunnels may have been necessary to bolster Vale's dwindling food supplies, but _Oum_ was it a lot of hassle. The fact that Jacques Schnee, miserable skinflint that he was, wouldn't quit submitting formal complaints about the cost was only making his job harder.

Realistically, adding a little girl in the form of Pyrrha onto his plate may have been a foolish idea, but who else could he trust to do it? Not when so many hopes were riding on her. If she could do what he thought she could… well, no sacrifice would be too small.

A firm rap on his door broke Ironwood out of his reverie. He fought to suppress a groan. Please, let it not be a council member. If he didn't have to see any of their cursed faces for the next week, it still wouldn't be enough.

"Come in," he called, drawing on every scrap of energy left in his once-bountiful reserves to draw himself upright. When the door opened to reveal a youthful face with dark red-brown hair shaved into a military cut, he almost let loose a sigh of relief.

"Morrison," he nodded in greeting. "How can I help you?" Despite his short time as a captain in the peacekeepers, Burgundy Morrison was rapidly proving himself to be one of the most promising recruits of the past few years. His dogged loyalty, quick mind, and natural charisma propelled him through a fast track of promotions and successes, and Ironwood had picked the younger man up as a protégé without hesitation.

After a respectful, snappy salute, Burgundy dropped a stack of papers on his deck. "Just wanted to drop my report off, sir. Figured that if you wanted it in hard copy instead of over your scroll it would be better to secure it in person."

Smart kid. This was why Ironwood liked having him around. "Good thinking. Thank you. This is for Mountain Glenn, I assume?" He didn't need to elaborate. Burgundy would know what he was talking about.

"Yessir. I have little else to report. The date between the two Arcs went more or less as expected, other than a minor act of insubordination. We may have pushed them a little too hard. I'll take care of it, so I saw no need to bother you with the details."

"I trust your judgement." Ironwood pulled the stack of papers towards him before flipping through the first few pages. He'd take more time to read it in depth later. Maybe tomorrow, if he was lucky, but for now, there were a few questions he wanted answered now. "Good work. Get some rest. It's late."

When the younger man hesitated for just a moment, Ironwood snapped his gaze onto him, putting his perusal of the report on hold. "Something's bothering you." It wasn't a question.

"It's… it's not really a big deal, sir."

"I'll be the judge of that." Ironwood motioned to the chair across from him, and Burgundy took a seat obediently. "Tell me."

"The Grimm hit Farm 33 today," Burgundy explained after another moment of hesitation. Ironwood frowned. Farm 33 was one of Mountain Glenn's most recently developed subterranean farms. Any damage to it would hurt, but they had all expected the new farms to be pressured by the Grimm, before the military had the chance to fortify them. An attack wasn't particularly cause for concern. Something else was bothering his protégé.

"I had a squad of peacekeepers on hand," Burgundy continued, "along with a pair of hunters, and the raid was only a few beowolves. We repelled them easily, but four workers were already dead."

He fell silent, eyes fixated on the fists he had clenched on Ironwood's desk. The general gave him a moment to regain his composure.

"But even after we forced the Grimm back, two other workers couldn't… get it together. We pulled the rest of their team away from the scene, and then… put them down. I did it myself. Didn't want it to weigh on my team. As per procedure, we made sure the news won't spread."

 _Get it together_. Everybody reacted differently to the wake of a Grimm attack. Some people couldn't handle the pressure, the mere presence of humanity's nightmares driving them to the brink of insanity. They were dealt with immediately. It was a harsh reality. Panic – no, all negativity – drew the Grimm in greater hordes, and anybody who couldn't reign in their emotions was a threat to themselves and others. That didn't make the task of forcibly _calming_ them any more pleasant. The rest of the construction crew would be rotated deeper into Vale, where the Grimm wouldn't be able to sense them, but the peacekeepers wouldn't be able to forget. They would just have to deal with it.

Well, now he knew what the problem was.

"Your first time?" The general asked. Burgundy had seen death, and a lot of it, that much was certain. The peacekeepers were Vale's secret police, their specialized black ops division, but were also some of the best auraless fighters out there. Farm 33 was far from the young captain's first contact with the Grimm. But there was a big difference between watching someone die and doing the deed yourself.

"Yessir." Burgundy rose to his feet before firing off another salute. "Sorry to bother you, sir. I'll deal with my personal issues. Good night. Get some rest yourself, if you can."

"Morrison," Ironwood called out when the younger man was halfway out the door. "You did what you had to. Remember that."

The younger man paused in the doorway, then dipped his head in a respectful nod. "Yessir. Thank you, sir. Good night."

::-::-::

It felt like it was only a few minutes before another knock startled Ironwood to alertness. A quick glance at his scroll, however, revealed that it had been almost half an hour since Burgundy's departure. He must have dozed off.

"Come in," he called for the second time that night. This time, a different favored subordinate of his entered the room. "Schnee. Good evening." Well, more like good early-morning, but that came down to semantics. Why was she here? He hadn't expected her until tomorrow.

Winter Schnee saluted, sharp blue-grey eyes roaming his office. She raised a quizzical eyebrow. Even though she said nothing, her expression spoke volumes. _Are we alone?_

Ironwood clicked a button under his desk. It was no secret that a few members of the Council didn't trust him. So far, he hadn't had any cameras installed to spy on him, but he would put a _lot_ of lien down that there were audio bugs in his office. The button was linked to a device that fed them a misleading audio clip that would play a fabricated conversation; far more subtle than outright jamming the bugs, but still able to hide anything he wanted to keep from prying ears. He wasn't fully aware of how the tech worked, but Doctor Polendina assured him it did, and the brilliant scientist hadn't failed him yet.

"Speak fast," he told the severe woman in front of him. "And don't worry about formalities. I can't mask our conversation long, or certain people will start asking questions."

Winter nodded in understanding before cutting straight to business. She preferred that, anyways. "As you suggested, I visited the archives today. None of the usual search parameters gave me anything conclusive. Not until I entered 'silver eyes.' All the sources were ancient, but what came up was… surprisingly consistent." She shoved yet another document across his desk. "if this is a lie, we're looking at the most comprehensive fabrication in Remnant's history."

Ironwood took the offered papers, but unlike Burgundy's report, scrutinized them carefully. Line after line of notes flowed across the pages in Winter's orderly script, the two words at the top of the page forming a title that set his weary heart racing.

 _The Maidens._

"Looks like this might not be a mere fairy tale after all," he muttered, more to himself than to Winter. She picked up on it anyways.

"It's consistent with our observations of Ruby and Pyrrha. The maidens' aura strength was supposedly unmatched, and all of them received their powers immediately following disasters."

"And both of our prospects were off the charts. The machines couldn't even measure their aura," Ironwood finished. "It's not certain, but we've got a strong case for this myth having some truth to it." He glanced at his scroll again. "Good work. I need to end our cover. Keep researching, and keep me updated."

"Sir," Winter barked with another salute, and then she rushed out of the office, taking care to close the door behind her. Once she was gone, Ironwood flicked the sound screen off, before letting loose a sigh. He really didn't want Winter's notes to fall into the wrong hands… and that meant memorizing and then destroying them as soon as possible.

Looked like he wasn't getting any sleep tonight.

::-::-::

A sharp rap on his door roused Ozpin from where he lay dozing in his office chair. How long had he been out? Long enough for the once-steaming cup of coffee by his hand to go cold, apparently.

The rap sounded once again, more urgently this time. Beacon's headmaster rubbed the sleep out of his eyes before donning his trademark spectacles. When was the last time he had been so exhausted he had fallen asleep at his desk? Years, probably. And who else would be up at this hour?

"Come in," he called. The door creaked open.

"Headmaster," Glynda stepped into the room, usual strict uniform discarded in favor of the loose shirt and pants she preferred for sleep. "You're still awake? I was surprised to find you out of bed at this time."

"Awake in a manner of speaking, I suppose. The same goes for you. Why are you up?"

"A little bird had some interesting things to say to us, or so he claims." She pulled the door open wider and called to somebody in the hall, out of Ozpin's sight. "You might as well come in. You're going to have to talk to him sooner or later."

When the half-drunk form of Qrow Branwen stumbled into his office, Ozpin found he wasn't surprised in the slightest.

"Hey, Oz," the dark haired man slurred. "Been a while. Or at least a few days. I lost track."

"Indeed," Ozpin responded with careful neutrality. "I was expecting an update on your mission several days ago."

Qrow shrugged, utterly unrepentant in the face of Ozpin's subtle chastising. "Yeah, well, more important things came up. Family stuff. You know how it is."

The headmaster's carefully crafted control sharpened into a pensive frown in an instant. "Family stuff? Raven's back? I thought you hadn't seen her for years." If she had suddenly appeared again… well, that would be problematic for multiple reasons.

"Who said it was Raven?" The drunk act fell away from Qrow, matching Ozpin's own dramatic change in demeanor, replaced by tightly wound poise and unmatched cynicism.

"Isn't she your only remaining family? Or is this your way of telling me you have family I'm not aware of?" Ozpin replied, the undaunted fortress in the face of Qrow's antagonism. "And if you are, then why have I not heard of this before?"

"Because believe it or not, you don't need to know everything, Oz."

"No, but this falls well within what I should. You know the danger we're in, what we stand to lose. Please. Anything you can tell me could be important. Don't play games with me. Who – is – it?" Ozpin asked, each of the last three drawn out words packed to the brim with unspoken meaning. The headmaster did not make threats. They were beneath him, the foolish play of hot blooded children. But Qrow knew they were there.

Thing was, he didn't really care.

"If I ever think you need to know, I'll tell you. Unfortunately, right now, I don't," he drawled. To the casual observer, Ozpin took the flippant dismissal in stride, but Qrow's peerless eyes picked out how the older man's hand unconsciously tightened around his favored coffee mug.

"Qrow," Ozpin said. "I am aware that your trust in me has been… strained, in the past, but–"

"Strained?" Qrow interrupted, voice dripping with false sincerity. "Oh, no, not strained at all." With every word, he grew even more agitated, until he was spitting years of pent up resentment with every syllable. "You see, strained sounds like you did something I didn't expect, but I've come to completely trust that you will do whatever _you_ think is best. Problem is, that usually involves hurting people that I like. So you'll have to forgive me if I'm not huge on the whole chummy-chummy thing. Maybe you forgot, but half of my team is kinda _dead_."

"Taiyang and Summer died as heroes–"

"Taiyang and Summer died as _pawns_!" Qrow roared, slamming a hand on Ozpin's desk with a reverberating thud to emphasize his point. "The Council screwed them on that mission, you know they did, and _you let it happen_!"

"There's a limit to what I can do," Ozpin fired back, tightly controlled calm finally unraveling. The words rushed out of mouth like water from a leak, but he couldn't stop himself. This confrontation with Qrow… it had been an inevitability for a long, long time. All it needed was a spark. "I was as fond of Taiyang and Summer as anybody else, but going against the rest of the Council is well outside my power. I'm not a god, Qrow! I can't do everything." How he wish he could. Then maybe the nightmares would stop and the regret of everything that could have been would cease its haunting cry in the dark recesses of his mind. Power – authority – was not something he would wish on anyone.

Deep down, Qrow probably knew that. But he was exhausted, they were all exhausted, the accumulated stress of weeks and weeks propelling them to say things they never normally would have, not even about resentment that had been steeping for years. "Yeah? Then maybe you should stop trying to act like one."

"Qrow! Headmaster!" Glynda cut in, severing the conflict with the ferocity of her cry. "Please. We have more important things to discuss: namely, the reason I dragged Qrow out here. Afterwards, by all means resolve your issues. In a _mature_ fashion, not squabbling like children."

Although she was unable to completely diffuse the tension, the two men tacitly withdrew from their conflict.

"I've kept everything relevant to your goals in my reports," Qrow said. It was as close to an apology as he was going to give. "Didn't leave anything important out. Just personal stuff. I promise."

Ozpin wasn't naive enough to believe that, but Qrow had proven to be a good man over the years, more or less, and so he was willing to offer the olive branch. Even if it wasn't entirely true. "I see. For what it's worth, Qrow, I trust you."

"Most of the time, at least?" the dark hair man scoffed, but his sarcasm was self-directed. "Alright, let's get to the point. I found something you definitely want to take a look at. Or hear, anyways. It's a sound clip."

He tossed his scroll across the desk, where Ozpin smoothly scooped it up. "Is this related to your mission?"

"Nah. Still working on that one. This is from our favorite tin-man."

Ozpin frowned, clearly unhappy with his subordinate's disrespect for Ironwood, but chose not to comment further. "What is it?"

"A gift from his office."

"From the bugs you planted, you mean?"

Qrow shrugged, unperturbed by the subtle chastisement. "Mostly, yeah."

"You know I don't approve of those," Ozpin pressed, disapproval only growing more pronounced.

"Hey, don't blame me. Glynda put them there. I just happen to use them."

"Thank you for your support, Qrow," Glynda commented drily. "I'll be sure to remember the next time you're in trouble."

"Just layin' out the facts, ma'am."

"I consider both of you equally at fault," Ozpin sighed, "so there's no need to blame one another. Qrow, the presence of bugs by no means justifies the fact that you use them. Ironwood is a critical ally, and–"

Qrow rolled his eyes, cutting off the rest of the lecture. "Spare me the crap, Oz. You're well aware that even if you're working with them, spying on everyone else is just part of the game, unless you want to end with a knife in your back. No point in complaining about it. I guarantee he's doing the same with us." He glanced idly among the loaded bookshelves. "Speaking of which, this room is clean, right? Could get kinda awkward otherwise."

"Don't worry, Qrow. I wouldn't speak with you anywhere discretion was necessary." Ozpin quipped. He was rewarded with a rare smile from Glynda. That was one of the few traits all of them shared, nowadays. Smiles were sparse, humor even more so. "But much as I wish I could deny it, you're not entirely wrong. What is it that the peacekeepers love to say? Trust, but verify?" His thumb came down on the holographic surface of Qrow's scroll. "Let's hear what you've uncovered, then."

Ironwood's voice crackled to life, clear as if he had been in the room himself, and Qrow let out an admiring whistle.

"You got some nice ears, Glynda."

"Shush. Not now."

" _Schnee. How can I help you?"_

Another voice joined Ironwood's: a woman's, sharp, clear, and clipped. " _I'm here to report on my inspection, general, as you requested. Permission to summarize?"_

Ozpin frowned. A man of Ironwood's status, receiving something as detailed as an inspection report? It wasn't impossible… but it definitely wasn't -standard procedure, and if nothing else Ironwood loved procedure.

" _Granted."_

" _Vitality is recovering well from last week's attack, sir. Food production has stabilized, and all but one of the farms should be fully operational with ten days. The White Fang is still working to completely secure the dust mines. We should expect supply to fluctuate until they clean the tunnels out."_

" _That's worrying, given the current state of the dust supply."_

" _You may need to reroute more troops, if you want the mines secured faster."_

" _I have few to spare… but the dust situation is critical. I'll consider it. Thank you for your report, Schnee. Dismissed."_

At first glance, there was nothing wrong with the message. Vitality was a Council controlled moderately sized town that primarily exported food and dust to Vale, and although he didn't know all the details, Ozpin was aware that they'd suffered from recent Grimm attacks.

"Clever," Qrow commented as soon as the recording ended. "Very clever. Just enough truth mixed in to sell the lie."

"There were some oddities," Ozpin acknowledged, "but outright calling it a lie may be rushing to conclusions."

"Nah. It's a lie."

"I'm getting tired of your games, Qrow," Glynda growled through clenched teeth, "so kindly explain yourself."

"Alright, alright. First, the true part. The White Fang are in fact currently stationed in Vitality, or at least a substantial portion of them, and there's a lot of repair being done on the farms. The dust situation is actually even worse than the good general supposedly says. Stocks are at an all time low, and it can't just be explained by the demands of the Vytal festival. Somebody really wants dust, and a lot of it at that."

"The Vytal festival is certainly a demanding event, but we've stockpiled enough that it shouldn't be depleting our stocks. There might be something else we need to investigate," Ozpin murmured. _No, that's something we_ definitely _need to investigate. I'm on the council. Why have I not heard of this until now?_

Qrow shrugged. "Probably."

"Wait, that's the entire message," Glynda interrupted, brow furrowed in concentration. "White Fang, food, and dust. Where's the lie?"

"It's not in the message content. It's in who he's supposedly talking to."

"Schnee," Ozpin finished. "Since it's obviously not our student, I assume it's a relative? A sister or cousin, perhaps?"

"Sister," Qrow confirmed. "I recognize that voice. Winter Schnee… we go way back. Heh, probably too far for either of our preferences."

"And you think it's odd that a Schnee would lower herself to working for Ironwood?" Glynda guessed.

"Nah. She's kind of a fanatic. It's totally something she would do."

"So what's the problem, then?" Glynda cried in exasperation. "And for the love of Oum please get to the point."

"Winter wasn't at Vitality," Qrow stated bluntly. "That message is nonsense."

"How do you know that?" Ozpin asked.

"Because I was there myself."

The headmaster nodded, as if it had been the answer he expected, but the slight frown he wore made it clear it wasn't the answer he wanted. "Vitality? That's outside Vale's walls. What were you doing there?"

"I told you," Qrow said, all cheek and no shame. "Personal reasons."

"Qrow…" Ozpin sighed.

"Fine, fine." The dark haired man conceded. "I was just making sure the mail got delivered. People there needed a lot of help."

"Well, that's awfully kind hearted of you," Glynda probed. "But is the mail really _that_ important in the wake of a Grimm attack?"

"It was a bit of a specialty delivery, I guess you could say. I had my reasons."

Ozpin kept his face neutral, but his mind whirred with the intensity of a hundred clocks. Qrow was always something of an enigma, but his unmatched talent as an operative had made him indispensable… until now, at least. Secrets upon secrets – how much was he hiding? Ozpin couldn't afford to be doubting his allies. Not now, when the Council was primed like a dust arsenal and Grimm assaults were hammering Vale's food and dust supplies like they were being directed. He would love to assign someone to watch over his mysterious subordinate, but who? Qrow was brilliant, and Ozpin couldn't imagine that any attempts to investigate him would be undiscovered. Or taken well.

When had everything gone wrong? When had the awkward, doggedly loyal student that had once been grown into a cynical shadow of a man? What had happened to the younger man that had once been – dare he say it? A friend.

 _You know what happened._

Glynda took an unconscious step forward, ready to press Qrow for more answers, but Ozpin stopped her. "Glynda. His reasons for being there are not important." Actually, they were, and very important at that, but now was not the time. Not with everything as tense as it was. "Let us return to the task at hand. I'm still not certain this message is a lie, Qrow, whatever you mean by that."

"Your suspicions rest on the fact that Winter wasn't at Vitality," Glynda mused, "but she didn't have to be. Couldn't a subordinate have reported to her, and she was ferrying the details to James?"

Qrow shook his head. "Might be possible, except she doesn't have subordinates. Ironwood keeps her hidden as much as he can. She's kinda like me, actually."

"You seem to know quite a bit about Winter Schnee," Ozpin commented.

"I like to keep tabs on my enemies. The worse they are, the more I watch them."

"I'm still not sure what the point of all this is," Glynda said. "Even if the message is fabricated, for which we only have your word, what does it tell us? That James is doing what he can to misdirect us? That's hardly groundbreaking news."

"And yet he's allowed us to snoop on so many other conversations. There's something that specifically Winter's doing that he wants hidden. The whole thing reeks."

"If it's a fabricated message," Ozpin protested, "it could easily have been somebody else he was speaking to, and they just changed the voice."

"Nah. Too complicated. It was her. I'd bet my life on it."

"Qrow…" Glynda piped up hesitantly. "I mean no offense, but this whole thing sounds like a lot of guesswork and suspicion, and even if it's all true, there's not a course of action we can pursue."

"You want a course of action? Fine. Here's mine: I'm going to wring every secret she has out of her. No matter how long it takes me. There's something huge going on. You call it guesswork? I call it instinct."

"Your instinct is impeccable," Ozpin declared, "but I can't officially authorize anything with more substantial proof. Do what you want, but on your own time."

Qrow shrugged. "Was planning on doing that anyways."

"And please – be very, very careful. The absolute last thing we need is conflict with the Schnee family, especially with their ties to James."

"Same goes for you," Qrow warned. "You have a Schnee for a student, right?"

Glynda nodded in confirmation. "Yes. Weiss Schnee."

"Watch her," Qrow stated bluntly. "I don't trust her."

Glynda rolled her eyes. "You don't trust _anyone_."

"And for good reason."

"That's enough for now," Ozpin ordered. "Qrow, you are right to be suspicious, but until you bring me something more substantial I can't offer you anything." He waved vaguely towards the door. "Inform me if the situation changes. I have more work to finish by tomorrow, so both of you, please leave me for now."

He still needed an update on the mission he had assigned to Qrow, but now that the perpetually drunk spymaster was back, it could wait for another time. For now, he had some research to do. After all, the Council was considering a revision of The Report's process, and since it fell under her jurisdiction, Councilwoman Salem had requested a meeting with him to finalize the proposal.

And it wouldn't do to meet her unprepared. Not at all.

 **A/N** :

Merry (belated) Christmas everyone!

Thanks to some very sensible criticism from both IRL friends and reviewers, I went back and substantially modified the end of chapter six, parts of seven, and the argument in eight, with the goal of bringing Ironwood more in line with his canon character and making Jaune feel more consistent/less bipolar or whatever. There's no need to reread it if you don't want to, since there aren't any new plot elements, but it is important to know that Ironwood's portrayal changed drastically.

Part 2 of the first interlude is coming out in the (hopefully near) future. Originally, I was going to post it all as one chapter, but I realized that there was just too much going on, so I split it into two parts.


	11. Interlude 2

**Interlude 2**

Ruby took deep breaths of the night air, the bitter chill burning her lungs with every one. The land outside Vale's walls might have been dangerous, but everything just felt more _alive._ Fresher or something, free of the taint and the stink and the pollution and the corruption that poisoned everything within the city limits. Out here, free from it all, she could relish the sting of merciless cold on her bare face and the cocoon of warmth her thick shirt and hood wrapped around the rest of her, could experience the simple joy of running or walking or dancing or skipping or whatever else she wanted, with no foreign eyes to worry about, every tiny package she kept tied securely to her belt a constant reminder that she was doing something that mattered, something that _helped_ people.

Her boss had told her to wait outside the city gates until a navigator contacted her. She didn't really get why, since it never seemed like the navigators did all that much, but the SDC was pretty big on orders, so she just listened to him. It was a small price to pay for everything else.

It wasn't long before her snugly nestled earpiece crackled to life, and a young man's tenor reverberated through her ear as clearly as if he had been right next to her. "Central to Rose. Do you copy?"

"Loud and clear!" she chirped.

"Good. The CCT's been kinda temperamental lately. Glad to see it's actually functional right now. Boss said you need this one done fast, so you ready to hit the road?"

"Yup!" Ruby couldn't bite back a wince when she checked her scroll for the time. So late already… hopefully Jaune went to bed without waiting for her. Maybe she should have sent him a note, but if he asked questions, what would she say? "And yeah, I really need to rush this one."

"That's on you, then," the navigator informed her. "I just sit here and talk and make sure you don't trip. Pretty good way to get a paycheck, to be honest."

She giggled at that. "Is that something you should be telling me?"

"Just don't report me, please."

Ruby ran her body through a couple of stretches – mostly out of habit, she'd been warmed up _forever_ ago – before pulling on a set of night vision goggles. Running got pretty scary when your only light was the shattered moon, and getting hurt by slamming into a tree would be beyond embarrassing. "I made this run in an hour last time. You think I can do forty-five?"

Even without seeing him, she could hear the open mouthed shock in her navigator. "You made it in an hour? But it's twelve miles!"

She smirked. She wasn't proud of a lot of stuff, but her speed was one of the things she was. "And I wasn't even trying. I'm pretty fast."

"No kidding. Inhuman. Absolutely inhuman," the boy muttered. "Sweet Oum, my cross country team would have _loved_ you in high school."

"I wish," she responded wistfully. "I wasn't exactly popular… well, anywhere."

"Ah. Right. Aura and all that. If it makes you feel better, us normies all secretly looked up to you. When we weren't busy being horrified because you run _twelve miles in a freaking hour._ "

"Nuh uh," Ruby corrected, her smirk returning even stronger than before. "It's not gonna be an hour. It's gonna be Forty-five."

And then she was off.

The road between Vale and Vitality had once been a high traffic thoroughfare, and although it had suffered from neglect, the road's generally good condition reflected that. Nowadays, most shipments were handled by aircraft. Those that weren't were apparently transported by little girls in red hoods.

"Sweet Oum," the navigator gasped. "I have to admit, I thought you were lying about your speed. Do you have a speed semblance? Or are you actually a cheetah faunus?"

Ruby grinned at that. "The first one, but I'm not using it much. Just as a little boost. It gets too exhausting otherwise."

"A little boost, she says. Exhausting, she says," he grumbled. "Running twelve miles each way is fine, but her semblance is too exhausting."

Ruby fell into a rhythm, verdant trees and shimmering lakes sliding by as she tore down the paved road. Even marred as they were by the sickly green hue her goggles painted over the world, they still shone with a natural beauty that none of the towering man made structures of Vale could ever hope to emulate. She belonged out here. All she needed was the comforting weight of a weapon at her hip. Too bad Atlas didn't want to give her one. None of the couriers got one. They used to, but there were too many cases where weapons instilled people with false confidence, and nobody lived to underestimate the Grimm twice. It was better to just avoid them entirely.

Somewhere in the distance, a howling beowolf sang a haunting melody to the distant moon, a poignant reminder that she wasn't alone, the one downside to the nature that surrounded her. Ironically, she was probably safer than she would be in a group. The Grimm were mostly drawn to negativity, and one of the first things Atlas couriers were trained to do was to mask their presence from the monsters. If they could even catch her.

"So, what's your name?" She asked, once the silence morphed from comfortable to oppressive.

"Who, me? Wait, dumb question, of course it's me. You're really weird, you know. Most couriers don't care about their navigator's name."

"You're kinda weird too. Most navigators aren't as friendly as you are," Ruby pointed out. This one talked as much as her prior four combined, but it was nice having someone to chat with. The loneliness that could set in was one of the few things she didn't like about her job.

"Fair enough," the boy conceded. "Name's Neptune. You can call me Nep or something if you want. Just not Tune. That's a horrible nickname."

"Alrighty," Ruby agreed cheerfully. "Nep it is. I'm Ruby, but you probably know that already."

"I didn't, actually. They only gave me your code name. Ruby, huh? It's a pretty name. A pretty name for a pretty girl."

"Do you even know what I look like?" Ruby asked, suspicion coloring her question. She didn't know much about guys – or anybody her age, really – but even she could recognize empty flattery when she heard it.

"Uh, yeah? My whole job is to watch you, remember?"

She felt the heat rush to her cheeks. Gah. Of course. And had she misread his intentions? Way to look dumb, Ruby. "Oh. Right."

"And it's a really nice job, at that, if you catch my drift."

Okay, now she was certain her first impression had been right. Definitely flattery. "Are you… hitting on me?"

"Do you want me to be?" Neptune teased. "Because I'm pretty good at it."

"No thanks," Ruby told him bluntly. "I'm… I'm married. I think." Even if that marriage was nothing but an empty title and a load of responsibilities… even if she had no idea what she was doing. Even if her – her husband probably hated her.

"Aww. The good ones are always taken." Neptune mourned. "But what's 'I think' supposed to mean? Are you or are you not?"

"It's kind of a long story. Not really something I want to talk about." Just thinking about it brought up a whole host of dangerous emotions: sadness, guilt, longing, uncertainty… and maybe a little anger. Just a bit though. Not that she would admit it.

 _Come on Ruby, calm down. You gotta get ahold of yourself._

Another beowolf howled, much closer this time, a keen reminder of the price of losing control of her emotions. "Yeah, _definitely_ not something I want to talk about."

"Right. Sorry. That was insensitive of me," Neptune said. "Focus on the job. I'll stop distracting you."

She wanted to tell him it was alright, that she liked his company, but the words choked in her throat. It was better this way. Distraction meant mistakes, and you weren't allowed mistakes when the Grimm were involved.

The rest of the time flew by like her journey, and by the time she was half a mile from Vitality's walls she had worked up a healthy sweat, her breath coming in energizing bursts. She pulled out her scroll eagerly, before letting loose an exuberant cheer when she saw the time.

"Thirty-nine! How about that?"

"Very impressive," Neptune drawled, "but you totally amped up your semblance at the end there. I could barely track you."

"Maaaybe," she hedged. "How are you watching me, anyways?"

"SDC corporate secret. Can't tell you. Sorry."

She wasn't entirely sure that he was telling the truth, but she didn't care enough to press him further. "Where's the drop off point? Inside the town?"

There was a slight pause as Neptune scrolled through the delivery details. "No, actually. Hang on, stop where you are. There should be a damaged statue nearby. About, oh, eight feet tall or so. Do you see it?"

It only took Ruby a quick glance to locate the statue in question. Once upon a time, it had probably been a beautiful, inspiring depiction of some legendary hunter, but now huge chunks had fallen in shattered fragments around its feet, leaving it nearly unrecognizable. "Yep, I see it."

"Good. Just drop the package off next to one of the feet."

Ruby picked her way through the rubble, taking care not to hurt herself in the darkness. Once there, she unclipped the package from her belt: a thin cylinder, paper light but sturdy under her touch. She had no idea what it was, but couriers weren't supposed to ask. They just delivered.

"That's it?" she asked, leaning the package against what was once a big toe.

"That's it," Neptune confirmed. "The garrison will take it from there. Good work, Ruby. Come home and get some rest. Maybe go a little slower this time."

"Hmm…. nah. Slow's no fu–"

A spine chilling scream of pure terror pierced the still night, snapping Ruby to razor focus. Unbidden, her heart kicked into overdrive, every instinct screaming that something was about to go terribly wrong.

"What was that?"

"Nothing!" Neptune reassured her, too quickly for it to be the truth. "Nothing you can do anything about, Ruby. Just come on home."

"It came from over there…" She muttered, ignoring the increasingly panicked protests emanating from her navigator. She ran off the beaten path, towards a copse of sickly grey trees.

"Ruby, don't–"

She blew through a gap in the branches and stumbled into a clearing, and what she saw there froze her blood.

The first thing she noticed was the beowolf. She'd seen plenty of them at Beacon in training simulators, of course, but nothing could compare to seeing one in person. It towered over her, six feet of rippling muscle and jet black fur, practically invisible in the darkness if not for the night vision goggles she still wore. Lethal claws longer than her hands scraped giant furrows in the ground as it stalked slowly forward, gleaming red eyes locked on the second thing Ruby noticed.

A girl. One probably around her own age.

"Ruby, I know you have to feel," Neptune babbled, "but you really can't do anything about it. I'll contact Vitality, see if the guard can come, but–"

She tuned him out.

The girl scuttled away from the beowolf as quickly as she could, but she had barely managed a few steps before she found herself barred by a thick set of trees. She curled into a shuddering, terrified ball as the beowolf drew ever closer. Compared to the monster, her skin seemed inhumanly pale, her dark hair falling in black streaks across the pallid surface.

Ruby dashed forward, hands grasping for a weapon at her belt that simply wasn't there. The rational part of her brain screamed in terror: she was unarmed, it was night, when the Grimm were strongest, she was nearly alone in a forest with the nearest support half a mile away, there was absolutely _nothing_ she could do. But the rest of her charged forward recklessly, because there had to be something she could do. There was always something that could be done. The problem was that most people gave up too quickly.

Not her.

"Ruby, stop!" Neptune cried.

He was right. She should stop. Running straight at the Grimm unarmed and alone? Suicide. But–

 _Blazing rubble fell in red-orange streaks around her, torn from its foundations by a missile gone astray. She gasped for breath, lungs burning with the acrid stench of fire, smoke, and death, the terrified screams and agonized cries of soldiers and civilians alike a fitting symphony for the destruction around her. A girl, barely older than she was, fled down the streets, a beowolf in hot pursuit. She didn't make it far._

 _Even now, nearly a decade later, Ruby remembered the screams._

But she couldn't. Wouldn't. Nobody was born a hero. They were forged by their decisions. And long ago, she had sworn she would become one, no matter the cost.

 _Golden hair and violet eyes were all she saw of the figure that filled the doorway, the only thing that stood between her and certain death. A huge grimm – a boarbatusk, she remembered they were called; wasn't it funny what people remembered – charged forward, the hinges of the doorway screaming in protest at the impact, but the figure met it head on with a furious punch that sent a spiderweb of fractures spiraling through the grimm's ivory armor. A follow up punch shattered the monster entirely, and the embodiment of mankind's nightmares disappeared in a shadow of midnight-black specks._

 _The figure grinned at her, and it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen._

" _Run, Rubes. I'll be right behind you."_

Neptune was screaming at her now, but even though she vaguely heard his voice it was muted and indistinct, as if he was shouting through half a swimming pool. All she heard was the pounding of her own heart, all she felt was the boundless energy that pulsed through her veins, and all she saw?

A tragedy that she could avert.

She fumbled desperately at the ground before her hand found a hefty rock. It was a pathetic weapon, but it was better than nothing, and right now it was the best she could have.

"Get away from her, you big bully!" She screamed, and hurled the rock with all her might. It bounced off the beowolf's head with a dissatisfying plink, but the monster turned its attention towards her. The girl looked up, coming face to face with her savior. When Ruby saw her eyes, her blood turned to ice.

Red. Glowing. Like the Grimm. No, not just _like_ one.

She _was_ one.

"Do you hear me? Get out of there Ruby!" Neptune screamed, his words suddenly sharp and distinct. "It's a trick! She's not human! She's a banshee!"

The banshee smiled, a slow, vindictive, predatory curve of her inhumanly red lips. Her mouth parted slowly as Ruby stumbled back, but it was far too late to back out now.

And then she screeched.

The sound washed over Ruby, but it didn't harm her. There was no agony of shattered bones or ruptured organs, no rush of incomprehensible dread or onset of indescribable madness. Nothing more than a high shriek in the dead of night. But it may as well have been a death sentence.

One howl answered it. Then another. And another. And another and another and another, until dozens of them turned the once-silent night into a cacophony of impending death. Like a foreshadow of things to come, the first beowolf charged Ruby, and it was _fast_. She only barely managed to dodge, the claws cutting effortlessly through the ancient bark of a nearby tree.

"Oh Oum, oh Oum," Neptune muttered to himself, squeaky in his panic. "Ok, I contacted the Vitality garrison. Just hold on!"

Vitality? She would never make it to Vitality, not when most of the Grimm's cries had come from that direction. But could she run all the way back to Vale, with the Grimm in pursuit? With her semblance, she could easily outpace them for a while, but more of them would come, and exhaustion would claim her long before it did them.

First things first: get back to the open road. She was crippled in the tree line. Too hard to move. She could figure out her next move after that.

"What do you mean you won't respond!" Neptune howled, not at her this time, but at someone unseen, uncaring. "She's an SDC courier under attack, you can't just _ignore_ –"

The beowolf rushed her again, but this time she was ready, and the claw met nothing but air as she twirled aside. She danced over and around the twisted earth and gnarled branches with unmatched agility formed by her long suffering at the hands of her ruthless Beacon instructors. Where she glided through the rough terrain, the beowolf bulldozed through it, but the stream of shattered vegetation it left in its wake slowed it enough for Ruby to reach the road well before it.

 _Ok now what come on Ruby think think think–_

A rhythmic pounding from the direction of Vitality served as a more than clear warning sign of approaching grimm, lured by the banshee's scream. That way wasn't possible, then, especially because it sounded like the garrison wasn't willing to run the risk of annihilation while trying to save her. She'd also never last in the wilderness, not with so many grimm on the prowl, not when it was the dead of night and she was completely unfamiliar with the terrain…

That left Vale as the only possibility, no matter how slim. The open road would make it easier to use her semblance, and there was always the potential of reinforcements from SDC headquarters, if Neptune could persuade them she was worth it. A pity she was worn out from the first run, but hey, regrets weren't any use, right?

 _I can do this. I know I can._

 _I think._

Ruby took one deep breath to ready herself, heart pounding a thousand times a minute, then took off down the road, the beowolf in hot pursuit. It was quickly joined by several of its brethren, but Ruby kept pace in front of them, even though her breath came in shorter and shorter intervals.

 _Come on come on come on–_

Her lungs burned like they would explode, but she forced herself onward, and as the minutes dragged on the cries behind her grew fainter. A quick glance backward revealed that two of her pursuers had dropped back, then another, and another after that, and then they were gone, and she was alone on the desolate road. She slowed, then stopped, bent over and heaving for air. She fought back the urge to vomit, sickened by her total exhaustion, until her heart slowed and she mustered the energy to hobble down the road. She might have been in excellent shape, but she was naturally inclined towards sprinting, and the distance and speed she had just run was quite literally impossible for even the best hunters.

Still, she had done it! Broken her time for a delivery to Vitality, and then escaped from a horde of grimm immediately after. It was definitely a feat she could brag about. Too bad she didn't have anyone to brag to.

Now she could go home and get some much deserved re–

Something large, foul, and unbelievably heavy bowled into her, sending her crashing to the unyielding road. Her vision exploded into stars as a fiery shock blossomed through the back of her head. The stink of rotting flesh blasted her as whatever had just hit her pinned her to the ground beneath its monstrous weight. It snarled in her face, and even though her world still swam Ruby realized what her attacker was.

Not all of the beowolves had given up, apparently.

Stupid, stupid, stupid– why had she assumed they were all gone, just because she couldn't see them? Some grimm lived long enough to become terrifyingly cunning, she _knew_ that, but at the time it mattered most it hadn't occurred to her.

Well, she was sure paying for it now.

It lunged straight for her throat, a merciless blow to kill her instantly, but she managed to throw an arm in the path of the oncoming fangs. The monster clamped down, and even though the worst of it was numbed by adrenaline and her aura Ruby let out a soft cry of pain.

 _This is bad this is really bad–_

She kicked at it feebly, but her pathetic hits did nothing to budge the crushing weight on her chest. In response, the monster raised a lethal claw and swiped downward. She twisted aside as best as she could, but the attack still found her shoulder. Her aura turned it, but it wouldn't last, not with the ravenous jaws still locked around her arm.

What could she do? There was absolutely no way she had the strength to force the beast off of her, not like the way Professor Port used to brag about in his occasional jolly moods. But there had to be something, she couldn't _die_ , not like this…!

She thrust the fingers of her free hand at the beowolf, desperately seeking out its eyes. Miraculously, the grimm withdrew its grasp with a pained howl, granting blessed relief to her arm. She squirmed out from underneath it, a thrill of hope blossoming through her when she felt the monster's grip on her loosening. For one beautiful moment, she thought she could be free.

Then a razor claw found her weakened arm, and her aura finally gave way.

A raging inferno of agony lanced through her from wrist to shoulder, momentarily obliterating the world with its intensity. She let out an involuntary scream and instinctively curled into a ball, helpless in the face of her death. All she could do was watch with blurry eyes, half lidded by pain, as the grimm lunged for her throat once more, intent on finishing the job.

 _Sorry Yang._

 _I think I'm coming to join you._

But then a voice that was definitely not Yang replied, a husky growl that nonetheless carried a warm familiarity that she couldn't quite place.

"Not your time yet, kiddo."

The beowolf barely had time for a terrified whine before silver flashed through the night sky, and the monster was gone, severed cleanly in two by a single slash. A scattered rain of black was the only sign of the beast which had nearly taken her life.

And then she was alone under a forest of stars, and there was silence.

Ruby dragged herself off the ground, delicately favoring her injured arm, and scanned the darkness for her unseen savior. She found nothing. But she couldn't have imagined it, could she? _Something_ killed the beowolf, and it sure hadn't been her. But people didn't just disappear, either. Besides, if somebody went to all the trouble of following and protecting her, why would they just run off afterwards?

Her throbbing arm dragged her attention back to reality. She needed to treat it, and fast, especially with her aura so badly depleted. If she remembered correctly, her home had a medical kit stashed somewhere, and it wouldn't take her too long to–

"Ruby!" Neptune's voice crackled to life, heavy with relief. "Oh thank Oum, you're alive. The CCT cut out. I was certain you didn't make it."

"I barely did. Someone… someone saved me. Or at least I think they did."

"I'll be sure to thank them, then, if I ever meet them. Can't imagine who would be crazy enough to be out there, though. Except you." There was a brief silence, before Ruby was startled by a sharp hiss. "Oh Oum, your arm. That looks so bad."

"It feels even worse," she chuckled weakly. Now that the shock of her brush with death was wearing off, the pain was intensifying, and it had been bad enough before.

"Can you make it back? Officially, we can't get you to a hospital, but there are SDC medical wards if you can make it to them. If they know you're a courier, they won't ask questions."

"Thanks, but I'm gonna take care of it at home. Don't really wanna be stumbling around trying to find new places at night." It was an easy excuse, but not exactly true. What she actually wanted to do was get back before Jaune woke up and started asking questions she really didn't want to answer. Not that she was doing anything _wrong_ , because she wasn't. It was just easier not to explain. And it was already so late…

"I see," Neptune said, sounding for all the world like he didn't see at all. "Are you sure? I really think a doctor should take a look at your arm. It looked super bad."

"It's fine," Ruby lied. "It's already healing. Now it barely hurts at all." If 'barely hurts at all' meant 'burning with the intensity of a thousand fires.' Which it didn't. Mean it, that is. Her arm _did_ hurt like a thousand fires, and what was she thinking again? There was a point. Wasn't there?

Blood. Losing blood. Bad things.

"Inhuman," Neptune muttered. "Absolutely inhuman. Alright, then. You probably figured this out, but don't come in tomorrow. You earned the break. Go get some rest, and if your arm worsens, get to an SDC clinic."

"Alright, dad," Ruby teased. "Get some rest too."

"Very funny," Neptune drawled, and then the line went dead, leaving Ruby alone to limp the short distance back home.

No matter how she looked at it, she had messed up, and badly at that. By dropping the matter and letting her go, Neptune had given her a lot more leeway than she deserved. There were serious consequences for couriers who went against orders, and charging off into a dark forest alone against the command of your navigator definitely qualified, especially If you suffered crippling injury as a result. Not to mention the trap itself. Banshees masqueraded as humans, she'd learned about them before, but at a moment's provocation she'd rushed of regardless, and she very nearly had paid the price with her life. She should have, would have, if not for the interference of a miracle.

But none of that mattered. Even if it had been a mistake, even if it had been foolish, even if she almost died, she didn't regret it. If she came upon the exact same situation again, she would rush to help once more, because one day it would be a person, and on that day, she might be the only thing standing between the Grimm and a life, and on that day, _she_ would be the mysterious hero that saved someone else. She wasn't going to – no, _couldn't –_ let just a single mistake get to her. Heroes didn't give up.

Maybe next time she could get a weapon, though.

 **A/N:**

Wow. Last chapter wasn't too popular, huh?

Well, sorry about this one then, but I already had most of it written so I figured I might as well post it. At least it's Ruby? Next chapter is back to normal, so for those of you who had no interest in this interlude, fear not! It is over.

Bad news is I'm pretty burned out, so no promises on when the next chapter is coming. I'll probably have it done before February though.

Probably.

Happy new year everyone, and see you next time!


	12. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

We're walking home, our somewhat disastrous expedition to the Hall of Heroic Endeavors finally over, when Ruby stops me in my tracks with a sharp tug on my sleeve.

"Don't stop! Keep walking," she hisses. I obey, but my confusion mounts with every step, until she finally explains herself. "I think somebody's following us."

"A peacekeeper?" I whisper back, but she denies it with a shake of her head. The peacekeepers left us when our date was finished, anyways.

"I don't think so. I didn't really get a good look at him, but he has a really big trench coat, and I don't think peacekeepers have those. Except he left it open, for some reason."

A mysterious guy in a big trench coat stalking us through the streets? That doesn't sound good. "You're sure he's following us? Maybe it's just a coincidence."

"Almost positive." Without warning, Ruby tugs me over to the side of the street and pulls out her scroll. I'm about to ask what she's doing when she holds it up in front of us and strikes a pose.

"Smile!"

Our two faces reflect on the screen: hers bright and cheerful, mine bewildered. From talking about stalkers to taking a selfie? What is she…

Oh. Very clever.

At the angle she's holding her scroll, the camera view goes well past our faces and into the dimly lit street beyond. I get my first clear look at our mysterious pursuer. He's leaning against a street lamp, one hand flipping through the pages of a small paperback, the motion drawing attention to the rippling muscles of his bare chest. I squint to get a look at his face, but it's hidden behind a long black hood. Despite his attempts to look inconspicuous, even random passersby find him odd, and he gets no small amount of strange looks, a couple of parents even tugging their young children closer to them defensively.

"Very smart," I whisper out of the corner of my mouth, firing off a wide grin at the camera.

"Why thank you," she whispers back. "What should we do about him?"

We resume our stroll, this time with me setting the pace. "I'm not sure," I murmur. "I don't think he can hurt us… not in the middle of Vale, with so many people around. But why would he be following us?"

"Maybe he wants to figure out where we live?"

"That's possible… but why?" The problem is that there's no real motive for anybody to follow us. It's not like we have power or information or anything – our lives are pretty much at the mercy of the caretakers. Unless this is some elaborate retribution for my disobedience in the Hall of Heroic Endeavors… but it seems far fetched that the peacekeepers would go to such lengths. At least I sure hope that's the case. Otherwise now would be a really good time to start panicking.

"Oh, oh, I know!" Ruby whispers excitedly. "What if he's a member of a secret organization, trying to get in contact with us to make us an offer we can't refuse!"

"Um, that would probably be really bad for us." Secret organizations don't really get along well with the Council, to say the least, and I don't want to get dragged into some impending disaster.

"Aww, come on! It'd be awesome!"

My idea of awesome doesn't involve rotting in the depths of a Council prison cell, but I'm not going to tell her that. Still, she has a point. Talking to the guy directly is probably our best bet for figuring out his motives. We just need to pull him into an appropriate place for a discussion. Somewhere quieter and less… watched. "Well, you're right about one thing," I say, diplomatically guiding our conversation back to safer ground. "There _is_ a way to find out what he wants."

Ruby tilts her head in query, before breaking into a wide grin when she figures out my insinuation. "Let's do it."

Once we're clear of the busy streets of Founder's and well into the twisting alleys and narrow streets of the lower-class residential districts, the two of us duck into a shadowy crevice wedged between towering apartment complexes. My heart pounds in anticipation as we wait for our pursuer to draw near. I really wish I had a weapon… and I doubt Ruby has one either. We both received a little unarmed combat training at Beacon, but if this man is a specialist and he means to hurt us, it's not at all out of the question he could take both of us on at once. Maybe this was a bad idea.

Well, too late now. Hopefully he's friendly.

It's alright. We just want to talk. What could possibly go wrong? Other than everything, of course.

As soon as his head pokes around the corner, I step forward, hands raised in the universal gesture for peace. "Excuse me, sir–"

Before I can get even those few words out, a scarlet blur blows past me, the only sign of its passage a trail of roses and a warbling warcry. I do nothing but watch in stunned, mute horror as Ruby throws herself at our mysterious stalker in a full bodied tackle. She connects solidly with his chest, which might have worked out better if she was more than half his weight. It forces him to take a few steps back to recover his balance, but at the cost of sending her sprawling with a startled squeak when he counter attacks with a sweep of his arm.

 _Wait no Ruby I didn't mean_ fight _him!_

Even if she has done the exact opposite of what I meant to do, I charge into the fray in her wake. One of the first rules about teamwork they drummed into all the students at Beacon was that it was better for a team to fully commit to a dumb decision than to leave their teammates in division. Maybe Ruby had decided to attack when it would have been better to talk, but if I leave her unsupported, she could be in serious danger. Huntsmen didn't leave team members behind. Not when they were all you had left.

Ugh. This was such a bad idea.

I scour the vestiges of my mind for any trace of my unarmed combat lessons, but the only image I can conjure up is Port roaring "keep your hands up!" in his signature boom, mustache quivering with every repetition.

Well, it's better than nothing.

I settle into my guard once I've placed myself between our assailant and Ruby. My first job is to protect her until she can recover. After that, we need to take advantage of the fact it's two on one. If I can maneuver him so that we pincer him, that would be ideal. I just need to figure out how to do that. Even though my memory is less than helpful at the moment, my body remembers the motions that were so brutally drilled into me: arms up, elbows in, stay light on the balls of my feet.

Before I can even react, he makes the most unexpected attack of all.

He throws his hands up in surrender.

"Wait wait wait I don't want to fight!"

Ruby leaps to her feet, head tilted in a query that I feel as well. "You don't?"

"No! You jumped me!"

"You were kinda stalking us."

" _Stalking_ is a bit of a harsh way to put it…"

Why is his voice so familiar? I'm absolutely certain I've heard it before, a tingle of recollection in the murk of my memory, but I can't quite place it. Someone I don't know that well, then – there are few enough of those that I'd recognize all of the immediately.

It's the open coat, of all things, that clues me in, and once I figure it out, not even the masking hood is enough to shake my certainty.

"Sun? Is that you?"

He stiffens, then sighs and tears his hood off, revealing the face of the monkey faunus I've come to call friend. "Got me already."

"Probably should have closed the coat if you didn't want us to figure it out. Most people don't walk around town with a bare chest."

"Not sure why not. It's so much more comfortable."

Our conversation is cut short as a swirl of black coalesces between us, having fallen from a nearby rooftop. Before I can let out more than a startled gasp, it rises and stretches, a pair of cat-like eyes swiveling towards Sun.

"Told you I'd win," Blake comments smugly.

"You totally cheated," the other faunus protests. "Hiding on the roofs the whole time? Laaaaame."

She rolls her eyes, but I catch the hint of a fond smile that pulls at her lips. "You weren't much of an inspirational example. Dressing like that has got to be the worst way of stalking someone I've ever seen."

"Whoa whoa. Enough with the whole stalking thing. I prefer to think of it as, uh, observation."

"That sounds even worse."

"Observation?" I interrupt, drawing both of their gazes towards myself. "Wait, have you been following us? How long?"

"Since your date, pretty much," Blake says with a shrug. "Blame Sun. His idea."

"What?" The monkey faunus sputters. "No it wasn't!"

Blake just looks at him, one eyebrow inching upward.

"Ok, fine, maybe it was," Sun concedes. "But I mean, come on! We heard you guys had a date, and we happened to have the day off, so we–"

"You," Blake interrupts.

"–I just wanted to see how it would go. Make sure it went all smooth, you know, maybe lend a little assistance and all. And fine, I wanted to see what would happen! It's like the old saying goes. Curiosity killed the…" He trailed off, before turning to face his partner, arms crossed. "You know, I just realized you're a terrible cat. I haven't seen you curious about _anything_."

"First off," Blake drawls, "that's racist. Secondly, that's not how you use that saying. And thirdly, I'm curious about plenty of stuff. Like how I managed to get stuck with you."

I can't keep a stupid grin off of my face as I watch. Blake's a quiet one, really quiet. Always has been. I haven't seen her talk this much, this easily in… well, ever. Not even with me. Blake Belladonna, banter with someone? I didn't even know it was possible.

"You were following us that whole time?" Ruby cuts in. "That's strange… I didn't notice at all. Not until we left the museum, at least."

"That's because _I_ was the one following you inside," Blake says. "Then this fool makes a bet that he'd be better than I was."

Sun chuckles ruefully. "Bad bet, in hindsight."

"You should know by now. I always win."

"Except when you finally fell for me?" Sun teases.

She elbows him in response. "I won that too."

"Fall for–" I interrupt yet again, barely able to keep up with their rapid fire exchange. "Hang on, are you two…?"

"Going out? Together? The most beautiful couple in all of Vale?" Sun preens. "Yes, yes, and yes."

"I finally felt sorry for him," Blake pipes up.

"Aww, come on. You know you love me."

"Maybe a little."

"She loves me tons," Sun stage whispers to Ruby with a roguish wink. She cracks a smile in response.

"I can tell. Congratulations! You two are–" her smile falters, and I notice her eyes flicker to me for an instant. "Well, you seem to get along great."

I can't quash the nauseous surge of guilt that comes with her words. _Not like us_ goes unspoken, but I know what she means. But what did she expect? Blake and Sun chose to be together. We didn't. Personally, I think it's quite the accomplishment that we're not constantly at each other's throats, especially with the Administration breathing down our necks.

My discomfort must be noticeable, because Blake suddenly focuses on me, eyes narrowed. I shift uneasily, refusing to meet her eyes, but I don't need to see them to hear the gears clicking into place in her head. "Jaune, can we chat for a bit?"

Uh oh. I get the feeling I won't like where this is going… but I don't have a good reason to say no. "Uh… yeah, sure."

"Thanks." She elbows Sun again. With all the abuse she puts him through, I'm starting to expect those abs are actually body armor. "Don't get in trouble. I'll be right back."

"Don't worry. Ruby will take great care of me. Right?"

The younger girl leans forward in excitement, eyes gleaming. "Yep! Hey hey, tell me about how you guys got together. What happened? Who confessed?"

Blake lets out an exaggerated sigh. "Please wait until I'm gone. And no lying."

"Lying?" Sun protests, but he undermines his own words with a roguish wink. "Me? Never!"

"And that's another lie," she mutters. She pulls on my arm, leading me further down a quiet street, out of earshot. "Come on. I want to be back before they destroy the whole street."

She leads me down several blocks with the uncanny confidence that speaks of familiarity with the area. It's not long before we come to a small park, little more than a garden. It's pretty, with verdant green plants and vivid banks of flowers, a very rare sight in Vale nowadays. More importantly, though, nobody else is around, and she finally turns to me, piercing amber eyes searching my face.

"You okay?"

I blink in surprise. "Me? Yeah, fine. I mean, life's been rough at times, but nothing crazy. Not like yours."

She shakes her head. "That's not really what I meant. Is there something going on between you and Ruby?"

So she did notice. Problem is, I'm not sure I want to talk about it. "Not really." Nothing super bad… but definitely not anything super good either.

"So the fact that there's tension between you two thicker than Sun's skull is normal?"

I wince, both at how easily she saw through us and also at the abuse my new friend no doubt had to endure. Good thing he seems to find it amusing. "It's that obvious, huh?"

"Pretty much. It helps that I know you well."

"There's… well, we've had trouble, I guess. Adjusting to everything's been tough. Probably the worst thing is that we had a fight. Kind of."

"Kind of? What's that supposed to mean?"

I turn away, ready to make the trip back to Ruby and Sun. "Look, I don't really feel like talking about it.

She stops me with a firm hand on my arm. "Jaune, please. I'm not asking just to pry –whatever happened, you're upset about it. It's chewing you up; I can tell. And maybe I can help. I– I'd like to try, at least."

It doesn't take long for my walls to come down. Maybe I've wanted to talk about it for a while. I just needed the chance. "... It was about her job. You know she's an SDC courier?"

"I do now."

"She came back really hurt one night. Beowolf wound, and a _bad_ one. If her aura wasn't so strong, she would have bled out for sure." I take a moment to catch my breath. Talking about our fight, remembering all the emotions that hit me like a stampeding horse of Grimm that night… it's hard. It takes effort. But I have to– no, _want_ to do this. "I don't know how she got it, I didn't even know that her job took her anywhere _near_ the Grimm. I thought she was just… moving stuff around, I guess." I take a moment to draw a deep breath, preparing myself for the rest of the story. "But she almost died, and she doesn't trust me enough to even tell me she was in danger."

"So you fought about her job?"

"Yes. No. I don't know. I don't even know if we really fought, because she didn't get mad. Just… really–" I wave my hands uselessly, trying to communicate what I had no words for. Blake nods, so I take it as a sign that she gets it. "Anyways, it's complicated."

"But it's not just about her work, is it?" Blake prods.

"No. No, it's not. I… everything's such a mess. Ever since we left Beacon. It's no surprise she doesn't trust me. I mean, she has to hate me, right? I ruined everything for her."

"Did she tell you that?"

"No," I admit.

"Have you talked to her about it?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?"

"No," she states bluntly, ears flattening in irritation. "You're making assumptions, Jaune. Has she ever blamed you? Is there any evidence that she hates you?"

"I don't know," I whisper. "I feel like I barely know her."

"Then find out. It's not complicated. Just talk to her. Tonight."

"It's not really that easy," I protest, forcing down the edge of defensiveness that bubbles to the surface. Blake's trying to help, I know that, but her pointed questions are starting to get to me. "She clearly doesn't want to talk. Ever since we left Beacon, she's been avoiding me."

"She seemed fine being with you on your date."

"She didn't have much of a choice."

Blake shakes her head. "It was obvious she enjoyed herself, Jaune. Even if you don't think so, I'm sure she likes you."

"So why is she avoiding me?"

"That's what you need to find out."

"It always has to be me, doesn't it?" I sigh angrily. "Do I need to start everything? I mean, I know it's mostly my fault, but she's not helping the matter by avoiding me every time she gets!"

Blake shakes her head slowly, voice uncharacteristically patient. "It's not about who's fault it is. It's about what you can do to fix it. Maybe it's true she's not helping, but you don't have any control over that."

"But I can control myself," I finish. "I know, I know, you're right. It's good advice."

"But?" Blake prompts when I say no more. "What's the hesitation?"

"I'm scared," I admit, hating how my voice shakes at the words. "What if I'm right? It's not like we have the option of breaking up."

"And if you're wrong," Blake counters, "which I think you are, you're destroying your relationship for no reason. Talk. Tonight."

"Alright, alright," I concede. "I will."

"Tonight."

"Tonight!"

"Good." Her sharp glare softens into a worried half-smile. "You know I do this because I want you to be happy, right?"

"Yeah, I know." I chuckle ruefully. "When did you get so wise, anyways? What happened to scaredy cat Blake?"

She rolls her eyes at the terrible joke, but refrains from enacting physical violence upon me. "The Fang taught me a lot. Not all of it had to do with combat."

"You've definitely grown. Even I can tell." I'm not sure how to describe it, either. On the surface, she still has the twitchy wariness that characterized her even as a kid, a danger sense that's only been honed by her missions. She was always a hard, tough girl, and that's more true than ever. But deeper down, it's different now. Before, she was… brittle, almost: hard and tough, yeah, but always close to shattering. Now, there's a core of strength that matches the a kind of unbreakable durability forged by facing your worst enemies and coming out on top.

"I had help. A lot of it," she says, before gesturing back up the road. "Come on. I've made my point. Let's head back."

"Blake?" I say.

"Mmm?"

"Thanks. For everything."

She smiles. "Friends forever, right?"

::-::-::

Shortly after we join up again, Blake and Sun split off, leaving me and Ruby to make the last leg of our journey home after a quick meal on the way. I know I promised Blake we would take tonight, but by the time we stumble through our door, Ruby's practically falling asleep on my shoulder, worn out by the excitement of the day. I'm half carrying her by the end, but the warm weight against me is comfortable rather than irritating.

"Sorry," she slurs through her haze of exhaustion. Clumsy fingers fumble with her shoes for a moment before she finally manages to pry them off. "So sleepy. Too much work, recently."

"It's alright. Go get some sleep." I line our shoes off to the side as she stumbles off. "Good night. See you tomorrow."

"G'nite."

I suppress the brief surge of guilt that wells up as the door to the bedroom clicks shut. I know I promised Blake I would talk with Ruby tonight, but at this point, I think I'd get more of a response out of a brick wall. I'll just have to talk to her tomorrow. Maybe in the morning; I don't have work until later, and with how tired she is I sure hope Ruby doesn't have anything early either.

My sleep that night is fitful, terrorized by dread of the day to come. Frantic apologies and heated arguments flow meaninglessly from one to another in abstract blurs of half-conscious emotion. I'm not sure what's dream and what's imagination. Maybe there's no difference.

When I finally jerk awake from my restless slumber, it's almost a relief, even though the house is already empty. The dawn sky glows a menacing pinkish-red, and a quick glance at my scroll reveals that it's just before six. Ruby seriously had work this early? Even with that injury? I hope she'll be alright; she looked really, really tired last night, and I'm not sure how much rest she actually got.

By the time I'm fully up and about, my irritation has grown to the point where I shoot a text off to Weiss. I doubt she can really do anything, but hey, you never know.

" _Any chance you could get Ruby's boss to cut her some slack"_

The response comes back almost instantly. She's probably getting ready for the day's training.

" _What do you mean?"_

" _She's already gone for work and it's not even six yet. Doesn't she get time off for injury or anything? Or at least a later shift"_

" _But Ruby's not at work. She's right siejahxoskw"_

I stare at the text with a peculiar mix of humor and foreboding. Somehow, I don't think she meant to send this one. Either that or she's having a seizure.

" _Are you alright there"_

" _Yes. Sorry. My hand slipped. Anyways, I don't think it's going to be a regular schedule. She's probably helping with an emergency, and they'll compensate her for it afterwards."_

Ah, Weiss. Of course you would text with perfect spelling and grammar.

" _Wait didn't you just say she wasn't at work"_

There's a suspiciously long pause before the next text comes. _"Like I said, my hand slipped."_

That's a pretty specific change in meaning for a supposed accident…

" _Sorry,"_ her next message comes in, _"I have to run. I'll talk to you later."_

" _No probs good luck with training."_

" _Who do you think I am? I don't need luck."_

With a few hours left before work, I take the time to complete some household chores before settling down to try to read another book, but my attention keeps drifting from the pages, magnetized to thoughts of my impending conversation with Ruby. Yeah, I'm scared… but even more than that, I'm kind of relieved. One way or another, we're going to be moving, and I'm tired of this constant stagnation we haven't broken out of.

I just hope we move forward, not back.

::-::-::

Even though I try my hardest to give my all at work like I normally do, I can't fool Tukson. When I catch myself spacing out for the third time in ten minutes, his concerned frown is already trained on my back. Finally, he approaches me.

"You're kind of out of it today."

"I know. Sorry. I barely slept last night."

"You stressed about something?"

It takes me a moment to decide if I want to tell him. "Yeah. I guess I am."

He hums thoughtfully. "Marriage problems?"

My mouth falls open in shock. "How did you know?"

"Just a guess. First year's always hard." He places a massive hand on my back and gives me a forceful push towards the door. "Not much business today. Go home early and make it right. I'm not going to pry, but it's not good to let these things fester."

"A friend told me the same thing. But are you sure?" I protest. "I don't want to be slacking off, and–"

"Go. You have more important things to take care of. I don't want you here." Even if his words are blunt, it's not hard to catch the genuine care underneath. "Come back tomorrow, ready to work."

Before I can do more than stammer a few words of thanks, I find myself standing on the street, with only the short distance home to plan out my conversation with Ruby. I'm really not sure how to start it off. I don't want to go at it as casually as "start talking and see what happens," but I don't have a better plan yet. I just want to make things right. Hopefully she can sense that.

The trip home whirls by in the blink of an eye, lost as I am in my thoughts, and before I know it I'm standing outside my door. I hesitate when the faint clang of metal on metal rings through the wood. Is Ruby back already? But what's that noise?

Wait, what's that smell? Smoke?

My hesitation evaporates instantly once I recognize the telltale acrid scent of burning _something_ , and I burst into the apartment, half expecting it to be ablaze.

"Ruby?! Are you alright?"

Nothing's on fire, thankfully, but thin wisps of black trailing from the kitchen tell me that something might be very, very soon. A red blur twitches up with a startled squeak from where it had been hunched over the oven. "Jaune! You scared me. You're home already?"

She doesn't seem to be hurt, so I allow myself to relax a bit. "Tukson let me off early. Is something burning? I could smell it from outside."

"That bad, huh?" She groans morosely. "No, nothing's burning. Well, actually, something is, but nothing's on _fire_ , at least."

I'm… not sure I want to know what that means. "Uh, that's good? It _is_ good, right?"

"Kinda," she sighs. "Maybe it'd be easiest if I just showed you. I wanted to get it right, but you got back too fast." She pulls on a set of oven mitts that completely dwarf her slim hands before pulling out a plate bearing a single charcoal black lump from the oven. I can't help but stare at it, captivated by the irregular craters that pockmark the craggy surface like some unbroken mirror of our moon.

She watches me out of the corner of her eye, uncertain of my reaction. "Well, um, here it is. What do you think?"

"It's… nice?" I offer. "Uh, what is it?"

I regret the words when her face falls like a dejected puppy. Come on, Jaune. Please learn some tact. "It's a cake. Or, well, supposed to be a cake. I guess it looks more like a rock."

"No, no!" I rush to reassure her. "It's… uh…"

"It's alright, Jaune," she sighs again, but at least there's a small grin in her face this time. "I'm not a kid. I know it's bad. You don't have to worry about being nice."

"It's the thought that counts, right? I'm happy you made one at all." Really, if I think about it, this is probably the best thing Ruby's ever cooked. Burned surface aside, it actually looks edible. Maybe baking came more easily to her. "So why'd you make it? Any special reason?"

Her eyes go wide in disbelief. "Isn't it your birthday today?"

I check my scroll for the date, ignoring the vague unease that creeps up on me. I was around eighteen and a half when I first met Ruby. Has time gone by so fast?

It's kind of funny, in some ways. The worst few months of my life were also the fastest.

"Wow. It is. How did you know?"

"Blake told me. I asked her a while back. I wanted to surprise you, so Weiss and I tried to figure out how to bake a cake to celebrate… this one's not great, but you should have seen the first one."

Suddenly, my conversation with Weiss this morning makes so much more sense. "Is that where you were earlier?" I tease. "Cuz I think Weiss almost gave it away."

"I knooooow," she pouts. "I even told her not to tell you. She would have wasted weeks and weeks of work."

"Weeks?" I mean, I know Ruby can't cook, and since Weiss has had everything given to her for probably her whole life it makes sense that she can't cook either, but really, how hard is it to make a cake?

"Yeah. We had no idea how to make one, so we had to try like a billion times, and she can only do it super early, before classes start, so it took us a long time."

"And you guys did that all for me?" I scratch the back of my neck, face suddenly warm. "Wow. Thanks so much. But, uh... why didn't you use a cookbook?"

"What's that?"

You can't be serious. "It's something that has a lot of instructions on how to cook certain dishes… they're how almost everyone learns to cook. You've never seen one?"

"Well I didn't know! You never use one, and Weiss has absolutely no clue how to cook for herself. And I don't either." The last words spill out in a sullen grumble.

"How did you figure out how to make this, then?"

"Lots of tries. _Lots_ of tries."

I look again at the singed lump in front of me. If all they had to go on was trial and error, this is actually really impressive. "Baking is really hard to get right. I'm surprised you managed to get anything at all." I stride into the kitchen and grab a knife, two plates, and a pair of forks before setting them on our table. "Alrighty. Let's eat it!"

She tilts her head, as if she couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. "Eat it? But it's… pretty terrible. I mean, just look at it."

"You two put so much work into trying to surprise me. Of course I'm going to eat it." As I cut two slices for us, it's hard not to succumb to the rush of shame. Here I thought she was avoiding me and working crazy hours, and all she was doing was trying to surprise me for my birthday. A birthday that I totally forgot about. Would I have done that for her? "Thanks so much. I can't believe you want to all the trouble."

"I wanted to make you happy," she admits softly. "I just didn't know how."

The words twist my heart like a knife, because I know I've only made it more difficult for her. "Well, you did. This is a huge surprise. I, uh, kinda forgot it was my birthday." I slide a plate of cake and a fork over to her. "I assume you want some?"

"I'm really not sure," she mutters, but the fork is in her hand in the blink of an eye. "Alright, well, here goes nothing!"

We both take a bite at the same time. A small smile blooms across her face inch by inch, and I mirror it. The cake is rough around the edges, and maybe a little burnt, and a little dense, and a little too sweet, but somehow it couldn't be any more _Ruby_ , and it's the best thing I've eaten in a long time.

"I guess it's ok?" Ruby says.

"It's delicious," I reassure her.

"Really?"

"Absolutely."

She relaxes in her chair, and it's only then that I notice how wound up she was. Draped across the back of her seat with a goofy grin across her face, she finally feels a little more like the Ruby that I used to know. "Oh. That's good. I was really worried, you know."

"About what?"

"That I messed it up. Like usual."

"Hey. That's blatantly false. You usually learn _too_ quickly, if anything." I take another bite. "I mean, look how much you've improved since the last time you tried cooking."

She kicks me under the table. "I thought you promised not to talk about that ever again."

I just laugh, and she kicks me again, but her grin has only grown wider.

"All right, all right," I concede. "I'm sorry. How about when it's your birthday, I'll bake you a cake to make up for it?"

The joy falls from her face, driven off by a muted melancholy she tries and fails to keep at bay. "You're gonna have to wait a while."

"Why? When is it?"

She shrugs. "A few months ago or so?"

I freeze, fork halfway to my mouth. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. It passed at Beacon." She tries to play it off, but even as dense as I might be, even I can tell she's more disappointed than she would admit.

Vague wisps of our first conversation come to my mind, propelled by her quiet reminder. "I almost forgot – well, no, I guess I _did_ forget. You were nearly sixteen when we met, right?"

"Yep. It's alright. It's kinda just a random day, anyways."

No it's not. Not to you. "Why didn't you tell me? We could have done something. I mean, we had _some_ free time at least."

"I didn't want to bother you. I could tell you were having a tough time."

Of course it was me. Because when I really, truly think about it, so much of what Ruby does is to try to make me happy, or make sure I'm alright, or whatever. Even if life after Beacon was awkward, even if I felt like she was avoiding me, did I ever ask her why? Or did I just assume her motivation? Because let's be real, Ruby is kind of a dork. Who takes weeks to try to bake a cake just to celebrate a birthday?

Who else tries so hard to repair a relationship even when she doesn't know how?

Blake is right. It's not about whether it's my fault, or her fault, or anybody's fault. She did her best, and sometimes she messed up, just like I tried my best, and sometimes I messed up.

She's made the first move. Now it's my turn to reciprocate.

"You're right. I was having a tough time. Thanks for looking out for me." I hesitate, grasping for the words that will set off a climax we've been delaying for as long as possible, but no smooth phrase comes to mind, no suave introduction or heartfelt poem, so I proceed the only way I know how: bumble onward and hope for the best.

Ruby and I really are a good fit in some ways, huh?

"Look, I, um… gah, I'm no good at this. I know things have been kind of awkward. Between us. And, uh, I figured that maybe we should talk about it."

She looks down at the hands she has folded on the table for a long moment. "Um… okay."

That's it? 'Um, okay?' Come on! Give me at least a little bit more encouragement. Maybe she's mad about something? Or–

No. No more assumptions. Like Blake said, just ask her. "Do you not want to?"

"No, no, I do!" she rushes to reassure me. "I just… I don't really know what to say."

"Me neither. Not too good with words. Or anything else, really."

"That makes both of us then," she sighs. "No wonder we get along. Or at least used to? Because now I don't really know if we get along, but I want to, so–" she cuts herself off as every word tumbles into the next, as if finally realizing what was coming from her mouth. "Um, never mind. Sorry– I'm really not helping, am I?"

"Don't worry. I get what you mean."

There's something about her awkward rambling that disarms the last of my reservations, and I look straight at her, finally committed like I should have been so long ago.

"Honestly, a lot of it is my fault. I'm… I'm sorry for how everything turned out."

"What do you mean?" she asks, bewildered.

"You know. Getting stuck with me, getting expelled from Beacon– I can't imagine it's what you wanted. I've been a real pain for you, haven't I?"

"No!" She denies, with such violence that plates on our table rattle in agreement. "No, you haven't, and don't you dare think that!"

I can't do anything but sit there and blink, stunned by her emphatic outburst. "Ruby?"

"It's not your fault," she continues, but some of the energy bleeds out of her, until she's half speaking, half murmuring. "You were supposed to be normal, right? So of course everything is just… nothing's fair, is it?"

"But even so, I should have been way stronger, especially for someone as powerful as you."

She shrugs. "I never cared about that."

Now that I think about it, why would she care about the strength of her partner? Only The Administration does. "What did you want, then?"

"It's kinda complicated." She muses for a while, trying to draw the words together. "When I learned I had really strong aura, and I learned what happened to people with really strong aura, I spent a lot of time wondering what my partner would be like."

"Did your image include tall, blonde, and handsome?"

She giggles, even though the joke is pathetic. "Maybe the last one."

"Good thing you got me, then. I've got handsome in spades."

She laughs. "You're okay, I guess."

"Okay?!"

"Fine, fine. A little better than okay."

"A little?!"

"Yeesh! Alright, a lot!"

"That's better."

She rolls her eyes, but the grin still hasn't left her face. "Jerk."

"Sorry. No more bad jokes or interruptions. I promise."

"No, it's fine." She quiet for a while, and when she speaks again, it's contemplative and solemn. "I guess in a lot of ways, what we have– had? I don't know– is what I really was hoping for in a partner. I just wanted someone I could joke with, be friends with, that kind of thing. Good looking was just a side bonus."

I can sense she's not finished yet, so I don't respond, instead waiting for her to continue.

"But, well, I didn't think any of it would happen. It was just a dream. Reality's more cruel."

She doesn't outright say it, but the hardship she's gone through is heavy in every word. She's still so young; barely older than my youngest sisters, but she's been through more than any of them– or I, for that matter– can even imagine.

My heart twists at the thought.

"I had a friend, back at the orphanage," Ruby continues. "She was one of the only ones older than me, so we did almost everything together. Her aura was really strong, just like mine, so as we expected, her Report assigned to be a breeder. At first, we were happy she wasn't going to be a huntress, because if she was, she would probably die, right? At least this way she would be safe."

She stops, and when the seconds drag on, I have to prompt her. "And? How's she doing?"

"I don't know," Ruby murmurs. "I haven't talked to her in… I'm not even sure. A long time. But last I heard, she hated her partner, cuz he was a total jerk. I tried contacting her again, but I couldn't find her." She stares morosely at the table, chin resting on her arms. "Being forced to fight might have been less cruel. I just hope she's fine."

"If that's what you were expecting, I can see how I might not be so bad."

"Exactly. So don't worry about not being as strong as me, or getting us kicked out of Beacon, or whatever. I don't care, and besides, it's not your fault." She turns her face away, and I barely catch her next words. "If anything, you're too nice. Way nicer than I deserve."

"Hey," I chide gently, "you shouldn't talk that way about yourself. You're one of the nicest people I know."

The corner of her lip curls into a cynical, self-deprecating smirk. "You only think that because you barely know me."

She doesn't mean it to hurt me, I know that, but it stings all the same. "You're right. I don't really know you, and that's my fault. I've done a terrible job of getting to know you better." I mean, I thought this whole time that she hated me. "But I want to do better. So please, help me out. Give me a chance, even if I don't deserve it."

She lets out a horrified gasp. "What? No, no, I didn't mean it like that! I'm sorry, no, it's not you, it's just…"

"Just?" I repeat, when she trails off.

"Nevermind," she evades.

"No," I press, doing my best to be both firm as well as gentle. "Ruby, we've done nothing but dance around each other for all these months. Aren't you tired of it? Or am I the only one?"

"I am too," she admits.

"Then let's stop it. I want to get to know you for real. But that means you have to be honest with me."

"Ok," she says after a long, tense pause.

"Alright. Um, good." Despite my suave speech, my tongue is frozen in awkward silence. I just blurted out what came to mind, but now that she's agreed, I have no idea what I'm supposed to say. Should I have thought further ahead?

Wait. There _is_ one question we really need to sort out.

"You know, there's something we should talk about." She looks as uncomfortable as I feel, so I stumble on before I can lose my nerve. "And, uh, this goes both ways, so I'm not trying to blame you or anything, but why have you been avoiding me?"

"I haven't," she denies, far too quickly for it to be true. Judging by the wince that follows, she realizes the mistake as well. "Mostly."

"Ruby, please," I coax.

"Maybe a little bit then."

"I thought you were doing it because you hated me for ruining your life, which made a lot of sense to me. But you say that's not it, so what is it?"

"Promise you won't get mad?"

 _Depends on what it is_ almost slips out, but I clamp down just in time. Her face is twisted into skittish unease, like she expects me to turn on her any second. Now's not the time for jokes. "Of course."

"I… I thought you hated me."

I blink. Then blink again. And again.

Nope, still not processing.

"Come again?"

"You heard me," she grumbles.

" _Heard_ you, yes. Just not sure I heard right." I swear, if this turns out to be some long, convoluted drama where we were both avoiding each other because we were convinced the other hated us, I'm going to track a writer down and convince them to make a comedy of it. "Did something happen that made you think that?"

She shakes her head. "I guess hate isn't really the right word. At first, I just didn't know how to act after we got expelled. Everything was pretty comfortable there, right? Like I knew what I was supposed to do. Once that was gone, I had to figure everything out again. It took a while to adjust."

Took. Past tense. "But you did eventually, right?"

"I did," she agrees.

"So why did you keep staying away?"

The admission takes a long time to come, and when it does I have to strain to catch it. "I didn't want to bother you."

My brow twists into a confused frown. "Bother me? How?"

She stares a hole into our table, but even with her face averted her words punch me in the gut with all the power of a rampaging ursa. "I didn't want to force you to be around me. Because you– you don't really love me, do you?"

Oh.

So it's come to this.

 _No! I do!_

–is what I wish I could say.

I wish this was a normal relationship, and I was a normal guy in a normal life instead of a normal guy floundering in whatever mess you want to call this, and she was just a cute girl I was interested instead of a–

Mate?

Responsibility?

Someone I've done nothing but let down?

Oh, and by the way, the most powerful girl of our generation.

But that's nothing but an idyllic dream, and when it floats away as all dreams must, cold reality is still there shoving itself in my face with all its potency.

So here's the truth, because I promised that to her, and after everything she's done for me she at least deserves me giving it my best.

Even though I wish it wasn't so–

Even though my heart roils beneath the crushing weight of the admission–

The truth is–

"No," I murmur, as gently as I can. "I'm so, so sorry, but I don't. Not in that way."

"I thought so." She looks up and drags her mouth into a weak smile, but I can see the tears behind it. "Thanks for being honest about it."

"It's absolutely not your fault. If anything, it's mine."

"For what? For being forced into a relationship with an immature kid you've never even met?" she snorts, with more cynicism than I would have expected from her. A couple tears trickle from her eyes, but she wipes them away angrily. "Not exactly something I would blame you for."

"You're not immature–"

"Just a kid?"

"You're only sixteen," I protest weakly. "You shouldn't even be eligible. Age limits exist to protect people like you."

"Not if breaking them suits the Council," she scowls, continuing her uncharacteristic bitter streak. "Laws are only for the people they don't like."

"You really don't like the Council, huh?" I wasn't exactly their greatest fan either, nor was pretty much anyone else, but we all agreed their regime was a necessary evil. At least most people got to live.

But not Ruby. Her comments painted a picture of a girl who borderline hated them. Hatred like that doesn't come from systems, or policies, or ideologies.

It's always personal.

"They're scum."

"Why? Because they forced us together?"

"Not at all. Like I said, you're great." She drums her fingers on the table, every movement an agitated twitch, silver eyes blank and unseeing, even as the setting sun casts a gloomy red glow across her face. "Did you know the Council was aware that Patch was going to be attacked?"

The sudden change in topic throws me off, but it doesn't take long for me to see where she's going. "What? Are you sure?"

"Why do you think the defending troops were all green? It was too hard to defend, too far from the mainland, so they just," she waves her fingers airily, a deceptively innocent motion against the barely suppressed fury buried in her words. "Let it go. Nothing but a cost-benefit analysis. The veterans were stationed elsewhere. If it hadn't been for so many _civilians_ rushing to help Patch, they probably would have abandoned it entirely."

 _I'm sorry._

 _They shouldn't have._

 _Honestly, maybe they were right._

Thoughts rush through my head, one by one, but none of them feel right. Like they're disrespectful, inappropriate. I don't even believe half of them.

But her comments make sense, now, about why she thinks I'm too good for her. Does she hate the council? Yes. But that's not the only thing she hates.

Sometimes, the hardest person to forgive is yourself.

Survivor's guilt. I've heard the term tossed around. Quite regularly, in fact, with how many huntsmen die every year.

I can't imagine how bad it would be if you blamed yourself for the deaths.

"Your sister wasn't meant to be there, was she?"

Her face crumples like she's been struck, anger giving way to a grief so intense I wonder how she keeps it bottled behind that smiling mask she always wears. "Yang– you don't understand, Jaune, you would understand if you met her. She was _amazing_. She was just, just so strong, and smart, and always bright and radiant and–"

Before I know what I'm doing, I rush to embrace her, caught up in the moment as her voice cracks and shakes.

"–and nothing like me. I took it all from her. She died to save a weak, cowardly, stupid little fake."

"You keep calling yourself a fake," I protest, as my heart twists under her naked self hatred. "But why? You're probably one of the brightest, most genuine people I know."

"Why? Because I smile, look for the best in everything, always 'do my best?' Because I'm Little Miss Awkward, a plucky, adorable kid with a streak of bad luck?" She laughs, low and bitter, like black coffee gone bad. "I faked all that. You said you wanted to get to know me? Well here I am. Mask is gone now, because I can't stand to wear it anymore. I just wanted to get _you_ to love me, and I figured that would be the kind of girl you'd go for. The scary part is just how easy it was."

"Ruby–"

"But I guess it didn't really work, huh? Because you don't love me. And you're right not to."

"Ruby," I interrupt, cupping her chin and forcing her to look at me. I relax my grip when she winces in pain, but only just. "Ruby, look at me."

She doesn't make eye contact, but she doesn't struggle away either, so I take it as a sign to keep going. "Listen. I don't know Yang, it's true. But even so, I know that she would be really, really proud of you."

The words are pouring out in a disorganized torrent. I barely know what I'm saying anymore; I just desperately hope they're at least half coherent, but I can't stop. Not now. I'm shaking, an unpleasant heat rushes through my body like a fevered wind, but I have to keep going. "Proud of how you keep going without complaining, even when life screws you over and I keep avoiding you. Proud of how you were so concerned about Weiss when you hurt her, proud of how you worked your butt off to stay in Beacon, or took care of a little kid in a museum; she'd even be proud of how you worked so hard to just bake a cake for my birthday. You have a lot of good traits, Ruby. Don't just ignore them."

Finally, snaps to meet my gaze, eyes blazing silver fire. "You still don't get it? I'm not a good person. I _faked_ all of that, and–"

"No you didn't. You _didn't._ Nobody can fake something they're not for so long, Ruby. Your true personality will always shine through." I pause for a deep, shuddering breath. "If you were only trying to trick me into liking you, well, you succeeded. But you kept going."

"I–"

"No. Let me finish. You get your turn afterwards."

I half expect her to lash out at me, but she settles back. If anything, she feels a little calmer.

"All those things you say you're faking? I say they're real. Maybe you're right, and you have some weaknesses. Maybe you've made some mistakes. So? Who hasn't? But you don't get to only focus on the bad and ignore the good. And you have a _lot_ of good."

"Same goes for you," she says softly. "You do the same thing."

"I guess I do."

"I'm serious. You do." She settles her head against my chest. "You… you really think all that?"

"Absolutely."

"I still think you're wrong. You can't just forgive me that easily."

"That's fine. It's not _your_ job to think I'm right. It's _my_ job to think I'm right."

"You make everything sound so simple."

"I've never been accused of being a complicated man."

She giggles at that. It's weak and pathetic, but it feels like the most monumental victory of my life. "Well, I'm accusing you of being a way too nice one."

"Then I guess I should live up to that." I push her away, gently, only so I can kneel so that we're face to face. I take her hands, warm and soft, and her eyes widen in surprise. "I've… well, pretty much been an idiot these past few months, what with avoiding you and all that. So here's my promise to change that."

Ruby's breakdown made me realize something. The gap between us _is_ my fault– only, it wasn't in the way I thought it was. It wasn't because I wasn't good enough or something like that.

It's because I never gave it my all.

"I did the same."

"We both messed up. But you're wrong about yourself. Even if you're young, you're not immature. You're not a kid. And I'm sorry I ever made you feel that way."

"Then what am I?" she whispers.

"You're my _wife_. Even if it took me this long to accept it. And here's my promise, for what it's worth–"

Because here's the thing about mistakes. Everyone makes them. Sometimes, they're even really really bad, like hiding-from-reality-and-avoiding-your-new-wife kind of bad.

But the worse the mistake, the more you can learn from it, if you're willing.

And I am.

"I, Jaune Arc, promise to treat you that way."

 **A/N:**

Is this where I admit I have no idea what I'm doing?

I don't do emotions, period. Not well, at least, which some people have picked up on in previous chapters. Guess what this whole chapter is?

Yup. That's why it took so long. Sorry about the wait. The last conversation in particular took forever, and I'm still not sure I like it. It's so hard to not just make it a cheese fest….

This chapter is really long at least, so that kinda makes up for it? Just don't get too used to it. Next ones will probably be shorter.

You know, when I started this story, I was aiming for 30-40k words. It was going to be a nice, relaxing side project.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

Blake's pretty different than she is in canon; she's much more direct, even aggressive. My logic is that in canon, she tries to make herself the outsider in a lot of ways, too frightened to get close to anyone after breaking off with the Fang. Here, she hasn't gone through that. She still has a place and people to belong to, so she's much more open and confident.

Also, she's been friends with Jaune for a long time, so there's comfort and familiarity in that. You definitely won't be seeing her act that way with Ruby, for example.

Ruby is also completely out of character from a canon perspective… kind of. She's a more complicated character in this story. Hopefully the conversation explains some of that.

I'm open to disagreement, of course. Just let me know what you think.

Anyways, thanks so much for all the response. I never imagined this story would be so big!

See you guys next time.


	13. Chapter 11

When the rising sun bathes my living room in a gentle orange glow the following morning, I'm already awake. Sleep hadn't come easily, and it certainly hadn't stayed. My mind is still a messy jumble of half formed thoughts, wondering what the future is going to bring now. It's not all bad, though. A deep seated satisfaction lies like a warm blossom within me, as if we've finally taken a step towards solving a problem that's been festering for months.

Which is exactly what we've done, now that I think about it.

The door to our bedroom creaks open, and my breath catches in my throat. All the memories of last night come rushing back with the force of a hurricane, sending my heart pounding. Where do we stand now? Have we made real progress, or did I just imagine everything?

Her head pokes out from around the corner, like she's feeling every bit as shy as I am. Soft silver eyes meet mine, and then she breaks out in a slow smile, completely different from the strained, forced ones I've gotten used to seeing. Even though this one is small and timid, there's a genuine spark of happiness that's just Ruby, and it shines for it. All of my worries evaporate, and suddenly I'm completely certain we're going to be fine.

I clear my throat awkwardly, but I can't keep myself from returning her smile. "Morning."

"Morning!" she chirps back, and all is well.

::-::-::

Several days later, I'm relaxing at home on one of the days I don't have a work shift scheduled when the door creaks open. A stream of hot light fills the room. It's well before the time Ruby usually comes home. My head snaps up at the sound, and I half expect the dour form of a caretaker or a lethal, intimidating peacekeeper to force itself through the gap. To my relief, a telltale scrap of red foreshadows the entrance of my… my wife before the door opens fully and she steps in.

"Welcome back. You're home early," I comment. "Did something happen?"

"Maybe I just really wanted to come back?" She hesitates, shifting from foot to foot uncertainly, before darting forward and planting a kiss on my cheek. Both of our faces light up like Christmas trees - we're both so pathetic, I mean really, a kiss on the _cheek_ and we can't handle it - but I smile in return. "But no, you're right, something happened. Something _biiiig_ happened."

"Something good or something bad?" There's an odd sense of foreboding creeping up the back of my neck, like an unseen insect or an unwanted gaze. Somehow, I can sense the answer before she says it.

"It's… more weird than anything else. Are you busy right now? I think I should just show you."

"Give me a hint?"

She shakes her head. "You need to see it yourself."

"Where's it at?"

"In my room at the SDC Courier Station. About twenty minutes walk from here?"

She has a room at a station? Her job must be even more demanding than I thought. "Sure, I'm free. Lead on."

::-::-::

I should have figured something was wrong.

The little signs were there: like the low rumble that washes over me like a slow wave. Brightly colored advertisements flickered over empty streets, unseen and useless. I've heard of the phrase "ghost town," but with how busy Vale normally is, I've never experienced it. Ruby glances from side to side as we travel, expression uncertain.

The rumbling intensifies as we move forward, until I can no longer ignore it. it feels like someone is shaking my bones and my ears start to hurt from the pressure.

"What's that?" I say, my voice coming out as a shout as I fight to be heard over the noise.

"I don't know," Ruby yells back, "but I think we're heading straight towards it!"

In a moment of sudden clarity, I figure out what the rumble is. Voices. Thousands of voices, from the sound of it, all yelling in incoherent rage. I almost turn back, but some primal curiosity drives me forward. Something in the human nature just can't leave well enough alone, especially not when it came to others of our kind.

We turn the corner, and the source is finally revealed. A throng of people line the sides of a wide street, the center of which is kept clear by a column of uniformed men wielding crackling batons, the telltale arcs of electric dust leaving brilliant white-blue trails in the air that are visible even in the blazing sun. Their faces are hidden by dark faceplates, and they turn only to lash out at some unfortunate bystander who strays too close. I watch in mute horror as one of them connects, and the victim drops instantly, screams of pain inaudible against the roar of the horde. It's a scene of unrestrained brutality, so contrary to the bright utopia the council usually tries to manipulate us into believing that my head spins at the sight.

The noise is senseless nonsense, nothing but an ear-shattering force of chaotic fury. I pick out a few isolated words, but they're meaningless snippets devoid of context. There's no unity here, no organization, just people screaming hate with conflicting agendas. Some of them are hurling curses at the uniformed men, others screaming what sounds suspiciously similar to "execute the filthy animals!" Everyone's taking the chance to spit their own individual venom.

"What in Oum's name…?" I murmur.

"Jaune," Ruby says with a tug on my sleeve. She points to the center of the column, and I see a small platform floating a few feet off the ground, crawling forward at the same pace as the men around it. "Is… is that…?"

The platform draws closer, until I can make out a row of thick metal bars that form a makeshift cage. The sense of foreboding is stronger than ever, a cloying and choking miasma, until finally the cage is close enough for me to see inside.

I recoil away, stomach churning with sickening nausea. Beside me, Ruby lets out a gasp.

A huddled mass of creatures fills the cage, patches of fur and other animalistic traits marking at least a few of them as faunus. Once, these had been people, vibrant individuals, but now they stare at the ground with gaunt, hollow eyes, little more than living corpses. Their clothes are shredded and gashed, revealing the unnatural sight of perfectly whole skin caked with dried blood, likely caused by aura working its healing. It's more disturbing than seeing a mass of scars would be, like a paradox in reality.

I stumble backwards, inadvertently taking the much smaller Ruby with me, my hand tight around her arm. One of the masked heads swivels towards me, and I back up even further, seeking cover around the corner. Before I can finish the retreat, I catch view of a sign above the cage. The words burn themselves into my mind.

 _THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS TO DESERTERS AND COWARDS_

I turn and flee, pride abandoned, the roar of the crowd twisted into mocking laughter in my head.

::-::-::

My feet pound the pavement as I run, run, run, run _far away_ and _never go back_ because what was that what was that what was that -

 _Eyes, dead eyes, staring out of sunken sockets as scraps of torn cloth flutter in an unseen wind -_

 _Blinding arcs of crackling energy, the stench of burnt flesh, air throbbing with roars of fury -_

Something warm grabs my hand, and I lash out against it instinctively, heart jumping into my throat. There's a sharp cry, and Ruby tumbles to the ground, an angry red mark across her cheek where I had hit her. I stop, horrified, then rush back, collapsing to my knees beside her.

"Ruby? I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking, I didn't mean to-"

"I'm alright, I'm alright," she cuts me off. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have startled you."

"I don't know what's wrong with me." My hands are shaking like I'm trapped in an earthquake, and my heart is pounding a thousand times a minute. "It's only, only, it was just a-"

She interrupts me with a hug, holding it until I finally quiet down, my breathing slows, and the shaking stops.

"Sorry," I finally say. "I don't know what came over me."

"Don't worry about it. That would have rattled anyone. It shook me too."

"Did it really?" I ask with a grim chuckle, more a bark of self disgust than of amusement. "Because you certainly did a better job keeping it together than I did."

"That wasn't the worst I've ever seen," she says. "Not by far."

 _I survived Patch_ goes unspoken.

I stroke her cheek absently, watching as the mark from my strike fade into unblemished skin before my eyes. "I'm sorry about hitting you."

"It was an accident."

"Even so."

"Jaune. Seriously. Don't worry about it."

I take a shuddering breath. "Right. Ok."

"Still," Ruby says, head tilted thoughtfully, "that whole… thing. I've never seen anything like it."

"It makes no sense," I agree. "The council should be doing everything it can to keep people happy. A giant scene is the last thing they would want."

"Not just that. The crowd… couldn't you feel it?"

"Feel what?" I ask, feeling just a bit stupid. "That everyone was absolutely insane?"

"Well, yeah, but not just that," Ruby trailed off, before shaking her head. "It's like what you said, that you don't know what you came over you. The fear. The anger. It wasn't normal. It felt like it was being amplified. Like something was feeding on us."

I want to say _that makes no sense, that's not possible,_ but I hold my silence. Some of my skepticism must have shown on my face, though, because she rushes to clarify.

"I know it sounds crazy, but I've heard that even if it's rare, some of the grimm can do it. It's what makes some of the ancient ones so dangerous, they can feed in the middle of a fight."

"But there's no way there are grimm in the city. There would have been a massacre by now. Or the council would have seen them, they see everything."

"I know. It doesn't make sense, except-" her eyes widen. "Wait. We need to get to the courier station, _now_. The thing I wanted to show you, I think it's related."

I hesitate, the images of the cage's inhabitants flashing through my mind. "It can't wait? I'd really rather not. After all that, it's, uh, not a good time."

"I know," she says, "but you really, really need to see this. _Especially_ now."

"Especially?"

"It'll make sense when we get there. Please? We're really close." When I hesitate even longer, she stares up at me through wide, adorable silver eyes. "Trust me?"

Ok, that is straight up unfair. "That's cheating."

She blinks innocently, which is even more unfair. "I prefer to call it using all the tools I can."

I sigh in resignation, the cumulative training from seven sisters still not enough to resist her power. "Alright, fine. You win."

The dorky smile she gives me makes it almost worth it. _Almost_.

::-::-::

The courier station is an unassuming silver-white cube of a building tucked into a side street off the beaten path. It looks nothing like the gleaming towers of state of the art technology that I usually associate with the SDC. Ruby flings the door upon and strides through, and I follow, albeit much more reluctantly.

The interior is consistent with the outside. Some spartan furniture and spindly plants are the only decoration, and even though there's almost nothing in it the room feels crowded, like the walls are slowly closing in to crush you. A couple of narrow hallways spider off into the beginnings of a labyrinth. Ruby leads me down one of them, then another, until I've lost myself in the impossibly long twists and turns.

"How is this place so big?" In terms of size, the first room had been closer to my expectations. I don't even know how this network can fit in the building.

"We're underground, I think. I'm not really sure."

Finally, we emerge into a spacious dome. Tinted glass forms a soaring cover above us, allowing sunlight to filter through but making it impossible for outsiders to see inside. I look down to see the floor is scuffed and scarred with dark blast marks, and upon closer inspection both the floor and curved walls bear scratches both long and short.

"Welcome to SDC training center Delta," a voice behind me reports cheerily, and I jump in surprise. "It looks all normal right now, but we can configure it into a hundred different potential combat environments at the press of a button. Or at least that's what the contractor claims."

I turn to come face to face with a tall, blue haired young man, probably about my age. He's unusually good looking; a muscled physique, brilliant blue eyes, and an easy smile form a package that looks unnervingly familiar to some of the lead actors I've seen in the dramas my sisters used to watch.

I'm not sure why, but I dislike him immediately.

"Oh, Neptune!" Ruby greets. "You were here?"

He grins at her. "You bet. Boss told me to make sure the old man's people don't get their mitts on you, and you know I live to serve." He turns towards me, one eyebrow quirked. "This your boyfriend?"

"Husband, actually," I respond coolly. There's an unspoken warning in my words. _She's mine._ Ruby stares at me, eyes wide with surprise, but I'm pretty sure she's fighting back a smile.

If he notices, he gives no sign of it. "Oh? So you must be Jaune. I take it you two got over your, uh, disagreements?"

And how does he know about that?

Ruby, at this moment, conveniently dodges my questioning glare.

"Well, good for you two," he continues. "I'm Neptune, as you probably heard. I'm Ruby's support, basically. When she's off on her missions."

"So it's your job to make sure she doesn't get hurt?" I ask. If my voice is a little more threatening than I originally intended, oh well.

He winces, one hand coming up to scratch the back of his head. "Oh boy. Um, yeah, that's part of it."

"Don't blame Neptune for what happened the other day," Ruby pipes up. "It's not his fault. I didn't listen to him."

"Yeeeeah," Neptune agrees, "that kind of happens. Like, a lot."

A flash of irritation courses through me. I'm not sure why, because it's not hard to imagine that he's telling the truth. I wonder why Neptune rubs me the wrong way. It definitely doesn't have anything to do that he works so closely with Ruby, though. I mean, she has to work with _somebody_ , right? And it just happens to be this guy.

So no, I'm not jealous. Or feeling protective. At all.

"Anyways, why are you here?" Neptune continues, oblivious to my thoughts. "Boss wouldn't tell me. Just threatened me with dire consequences if I didn't show up."

"I thought I should show Jaune the… you know. That."

His head tilts with curiosity. "What, you mean your weapons from Beacon?"

A pause.

A longer one.

Wait.

What.

Neptune looks at my dumbfounded expression, then to where Ruby is doing her best to shrink into herself. "Oh. Oops."

"That," Ruby whimpers, "was not how I wanted to tell him. In fact, that's probably the most not-wanted you can get."

"I," Neptune stammers, "am a complete idiot. Let's just pretend I said nothing, ok? Good? Great. Fantastic, even."

"Too late," Ruby groans. I still haven't responded. _Weapons from Beacon_ echoes on an endless loop, like a broken record in my head.

"Jaune?" Ruby asks timidly. "Are you mad?"

Am I? "I'm not sure."

"Well, if you are, don't be," Neptune cuts in. "We just got the package earlier today. She ran home to tell you as soon as she knew."

I shake my head to refocus. "Can I see them? The weapons. It's kind of hard to believe they just… showed up."

"Sure." Neptune strolls off into a back room with a casual wave. "They're in Ruby's equipment locker. I'll grab them for you. Give you two some time to talk it out or whatever."

As soon as he's gone, Ruby's shoulders slump, and she stares at her feet rather than look at me. "I knew it. You're mad, aren't you?"

"No, don't worry, I'm not." Why is she so quick to assume I'm angry? Have I really made that bad of an impression on her? "Thanks, actually. For coming to get me so quickly."

"We're a team, right?" Ruby says with a small smile. "Of course I'll get you."

Neptune picks that moment to return, staggering back into the training room under the weight of a metal case. He half lowers, half drops it onto the floor with a resounding thud. "Oof. What do you guys train with over there? Boulders?"

"Yup. And sticks," Ruby quips with a cheeky grin.

"The highest quality sticks," I add on. "But the boulders are only so-so. Budget cuts hurt."

Neptune snorts in disbelief. "Please. Beacon, budget cuts? Maybe when pigs fly. _Non-grimm_ pigs." He leans down, fiddling with a series of locks along the rim. "Manual locks, can you believe it? Somebody really wanted to make sure this thing stayed shut."

"If this thing has the highly illegal weapons you say it has, I can't really blame them." The first series of tumblers fall into place. "Wait, how do you know the code?"

"Ruby knew them."

Ruby sighs. "The numbers are my birthday. And Yang's. Crazy, right?"

That raises a ton more questions to ask, but before I can, the last lock disengages with a click, and Neptune steps back. "Alright. See for yourself."

I lift the case lid slowly. Ruby peers inside with all the enthusiasm of a child, even though she's already seen the contents. Only an instant later, and a gleaming crimson scythe has seemingly teleported into her eager hands, causing Neptune to leap back with a startled yelp.

"My baby," Ruby coos. "It's been so long. Did you miss me? Of course you missed me. Who's a good girl?"

Crescent Rose, predictably, does not respond.

I reach into the case and pull out its other occupants. They're simple, solid, and unremarkable, especially when compared to something as flashy as Ruby's weapon, but they're warm and comfortable in my hands, a pair of hefty, familiar weights.

A sword and shield. Crocea Mors.

I stare at them wordlessly, overcome by a rush of emotion. Neptune strolls over, looks at the gleaming metal in my hands, and lets out an appreciative whistle.

"Simple, but beautiful. I like it."

"I never thought I'd hold either of these again," I say in a daze. "This is real, right? I'm not dreaming?"

"Yes, it is, and no, you're not. Either that or we're all dreaming the same dream and that's just weird. No offense, but you don't look like the kind of guy I would want to share dreams with."

"I have no idea how to respond to that."

"Then don't. You weren't meant to." Neptune fires back with a cheeky grin. "By the way, you had a way, way calmer reaction than Ruby did."

"I heard that!" Ruby protests. "But you're not wrong." She pulls something out of the case and pushes it into my hand. It's coarse and dry against my skin. "If you think it's weird now, wait until you read this."

I look at the folded square in my palm. "It's a piece of paper."

She rolls her eyes. "You're supposed to _unfold_ it first."

I unfold it. "It's, uh, still a piece of paper."

"Jaaaaauuuuune," Ruby complains, and I can't help but laugh.

"Alright, alright, sorry." The unfolded paper contains a short note, but as I read it, my humor evaporates. Sprawling letters are written in jumbled disarray with dark ink, and there are smears and spiraling drips like somebody rushed through the process.

 _Hope you don't need these, but I'd rather you have them and not need them than wish you had them. Better remember your training. I'll pick them up in two months. You should be safe by then._

 _You know this as much as I do, but don't let the caretakers find out. I went through a lot of trouble to pull this off and I'd rather not see it go to waste._

 _Good luck. Stay safe._

"Couldn't they have left a signature?" I ask once I finish reading.

"Dude." Neptune shakes his head in disbelief. "You finish reading a note from a top secret, illegal shipment of some of the best weapons in the world and the only thing you want is a signature?"

"Wouldn't you feel a lot better about a gifted death sentence if you knew who it came from?"

"Fair point."

I read the note again, before letting loose a heavy sigh. "You were right, Ruby. This _is_ really big."

"And it helps everything else make sense," she says.

"What do you mean?"

"Out of the blue, someone smuggles us our weapons from Beacon, and the very same day, there's a huge riot? After years of calm? Can't you see? There _has_ to be something going on, something that's going to totally change Vale, and we're right in the middle of it!"

I want to say _it could be a coincidence_ , but I have to admit, the chances of either happening are one in a billion, normally. Both at the same time? She's right, something is probably going on. Some event we know nothing about.

And then there's the mystery of the sender. No, a coincidence is impossible.

"Not only that," I add on, "but whoever sent these to you knows you well enough that they would use your birthday for the code. And that you would guess it."

At that, Ruby says something that drops my heart into my stomach like a lead weight.

"I know! Isn't it exciting? We're going to be heroes, Jaune!" Ruby squeals, eyes shining. "This is the start to our adventure!"

You see–

This is the problem.

For me, this situation is a crisis to be handled. A puzzle to unravel. Our weapons are nothing but a ticking time bomb, and once they're discovered, both of us are completely screwed, no questions asked. Treachery, treason, rebellion, no matter what we're sentenced with, we're dead.

But for Ruby?

It's a dream come true.

"Ruby–" I begin, then cut myself off. I've done enough damage with my thoughtlessness already. I know how important this is to her, so I'm going to handle it carefully and gently. I am going to calmly explain why we have to keep this hidden, and how completely screwed we will be when the caretakers find out.

… Later. I'll do it later.

Luckily, there's still a very pressing question to answer right now.

I turn to Neptune, my expression carefully controlled. He must read through me, however, because his back straightens just a little bit and his gaze suddenly grows sharper.

"I hate to ask this, but how do we know we can trust you?"

Ruby glances at me uncertainty. Neptune doesn't waver in the slightest. He leans forward, eyes boring into mine.

"Other than the fact that I've been watching your wife's back for months?"

I mirror him, refusing to be intimidated. "When she was an SDC courier, yes. Not as the recipient of illegally smuggled Beacon weaponry. And I'm willing to bet your superiors would love to know about this."

"He's trustworthy, Jaune," Ruby reassures me. "At least, _I_ trust him."

"I am," Neptune agrees. "But you're wise to doubt. Still, there's a couple of important factors you're missing. Shall I outline them for you?"

"I'm all ears."

"Good." He rattles through a list, checking off imaginary boxes with his fingers with every point. "Firstly, I'm not like most SDC employees. I'm an independent specialist, not part of corporate, so I don't have any superiors for you to worry about. Weiss hired me directly, and she's smart enough to know she can't trust most of the staff. As long as she's on your side, so am I, so please stay on her good side because I'm starting to like you two. Well, you specifically. I always liked Ruby."

SDC politics is starting to sound more and more unpleasant. Is Weiss her own faction or something? No wonder she seems to have family problems. "That's good to know. Anything else?"

For a brief moment, I swear Neptune's trademark grin takes on a dangerous glint. "There's a very obvious reason to trust me. If I wanted to report you, you'd be screwed already."

There's a drawn out, tense silence as the two of us exchange stares and I mull over what Neptune's said.

He's the first one to break the silence. "Anything else?" He echoes my previous words.

I respond in an instant. "You're not as laid back as you pretend, are you?"

He chuckles at that. "And you're a lot smarter than you pretend, aren't you? I think we'll get along."

Ruby, who has been tracking our back and forth with wide eyes, finally collapses to the floor with an exasperated groan. "You guys have had the weirdest first meeting I've ever seen. Are all boys like this?"

"Only the smart ones," Neptune quips.

"Can't you guys just be like, hi, nice to meet you, wanna be friends? It'd be so much easier."

"What's the fun in that?"

"Sorry, Ruby," I laugh sheepishly.

"Ahh, whatever. You guys do what you want." She nuzzles the gleaming crimson metal cradled in her arms. "I have the most beautiful girl in the world to keep me company."

"You _do_ realize that's a weapon you're cuddling, right?" Neptune asks. I lean forward with a choked warning, hand outstretched.

"Yes, and?"

"And that it doesn't have the capacity for affection?"

I wince. The glare Ruby fires at Neptune could shatter ice.

"You get to get away with saying that _once_."

To his credit, Neptune realizes the danger he's in immediately. "Righto. Once and never again. Understood."

I step in between them. Ruby sits up and tries to peer around me to glare at Neptune. "Alright guys, sorry to change the topic, but we need to figure out what to do next."

Neptune gives me a befuddled stare, as if I'd grown a mutant appendage. "Dude, come on. I just called you smart."

I wait for him to continue, narrow eyed in irritation.

"You have rudimentary training that could really use improvement. You just received state of the art weapons, and you're in a state of the art training facility, with friends who have the political clout to give you some breathing room. What do you _think_ your next step should be?"

I know what he's suggesting. I suspected it was coming the moment I saw our old weapons.

My thoughts?

 _Wait timeout no no no no bad idea bad idea._

"Can we really train here?" Ruby asks, voice shaky with excitement.

"Sure. What else is it supposed to be used for?"

"I don't think it's a good idea."

At my words, two heads swivel toward me, one shocked, the other exasperated.

"I just gave you some great reasons why you _should_ train," Neptune bites out. "So what are your objections."

"First off, there is absolutely no reason _for_ us to train."

"Something's coming, Jaune," Ruby counters. "Something big. We have to be ready."

"Ready for what? We don't even know if this 'something' exists, and if it does, what it is. Training is a huge risk to take for a reason like that." Right, tactful. I told myself to be tactful. Now is the time to deliver. I try to make my voice as gentle as I can. "Ruby, fighting isn't our job. It was never our job."

Judging from the rebellious tilt of her chin, she's not going to back down yet.

"You could train your kids if you were strong yourself," Neptune says. "Or who knows, knowing how to fight can always come in handy."

"And you don't think the fact that two breeders know enough about fighting to train their kids wouldn't raise any suspicion?"

"Alright, fair enough. But what do you have to lose? You have time, you have the means to do it. Why not go for it?"

Why not–

Is this guy serious?

"You keep saying we have nothing to lose," I grind out, "but do you have any idea what you're talking about, what you're asking us to risk? Our lives are on the line, and if we're caught, a quick death is the best we can hope for. Even that's a long shot. Did you not see what just got paraded past us outside?"

Images of broken, hollow, people–turned–corpses puncture my mind with every word. I can tell Ruby remembers too, because her expression flickers, even if it's almost imperceptible.

"The difference here is you have people to protect you. People with power," Neptune points out.

"You can't guarantee that," I fire back. "If they suspect anything at all, there's going to be a squad of peacekeepers on your doorstep before you can do anything. Can you protect us from that?"

Neptune shrugs. "Frankly, yes. You underestimate the Schnee family's influence."

I shake my head, barely stopping myself from rolling my eyes at the same time. "And you overestimate how much control Weiss has over that influence. For the level of risk training brings, we need certainty. Not just theory."

"Do you really expect certainty in this life?" Neptune scoffs.

"No. No I don't. And that's _exactly_ why this is a bad idea."

"I really think we should do it, Jaune," Ruby speaks up. "If something big actually _is_ going to happen, we have to be prepared."

"Not you too," I cry out. "Alright look, you're probably right, all of these events are probably connected. But if 'something big' actually is coming, it will be the huntsmen and huntresses' job to handle it. _Not_ ours."

"But–"

"No," I interrupt. I regret it almost immediately, but my frustration with the two of them drives me onward. Why are they completely blind to the risk we would be putting ourselves in for no good reason? "We are _not_ doing this. It's a bad, bad idea. End of story. Once Weiss figures out who put us in all this danger, I'm going to give him a piece of my mind. Until then, we sit tight."

"And if we don't?" Neptune asks, a dangerous, challenging glint in his eye. "What are you going to do, report us?"

"Don't force me, Neptune," I snap, my patience at its absolute limit. " _Please_ don't force me."

"The choice is yours, man," Neptune snaps back with equal fire. "Nothing is forcing you. You can _choose_ to report, or you can not. Don't try to pin this on me."

I step forward, fists clenched at my sides. "And if you don't try to go behind The Council's back, there's no need for a choice. I am not going to sit here and watch you drag my wife to her death. Get yourself killed if you want, but leave her out of it."

"Don't use me an excuse Jaune," Ruby hisses. "Not to justify your opinion, and especially not if you're going to threaten us."

'Us.' The fact that she's clearly siding with Neptune over me stings a lot. Still, I manage to give an even reply.

"I promised to take care of you, to take our marriage seriously. I'm delivering on that promise."

"This wasn't how I wanted you to do it," she replies. Her voice is deceptively steady, but I see the hurt and frustration roiling in her eyes. A twinge of guilt tugs at me, but I ruthlessly suppress it, even after she turns away and I catch a faint whisper of something that sounds like "I shouldn't have told you."

This is for our good. I'm keeping us safe.

Both of us.

 **A/N:**

Ohai guys… it's, uh, been a while. But better late than never, right?

Thanks so much for your patience. I lost interest, motivation, and confidence in my writing for a while, but I'm back!

Extra thanks to those of you who have faithfully stuck around, left reviews, or messaged me. I'm a little rusty, but hopefully this chapter satisfies.

Leave reviews and tell me what you think! As one of my favorite authors has said, reviews are my fuel, I am an environmentally unfriendly battle tank. Putt putt.


	14. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

I suppose it would have been too easy for everything to magically work out as soon as I decided to take my role more seriously. To be a good partner, husband, whatever you wanted to call it, and whatever that meant. I really did want to improve, to try my best.

Instead, I think I just managed to tear open another rift between me and Ruby.

Right after we fixed the first one.

It _really_ would be nice for everything to work out.

Whether she was cowed by my threat to report them or compliant out of loyalty to me, Ruby dropped the idea of training to become a huntress again. I should have felt happy about it, but instead, I just felt… sick. I forced her against her will, and we both know it. She never said anything, but her quiet resentment was palpable, and it dragged on for days. After what I've done, I can't even blame her. That doesn't make our day to day life any less uncomfortable.

A couple of times I almost relent, but every time I'm struck with a vivid vision of her beaten and tortured, once-bright eyes now dull and lifeless, paraded through the streets as an example to others. Once, it would have been a farfetched exaggeration. Nowadays, with the tension that grips Vale, I'm not so sure.

Maybe what I'm doing is wrong, but if it keeps us safe, it's a villainy I'll bear.

All the same, I'd rather do everything I can to mend our relationship a little more, and about a week later, inspiration strikes. With Ruby out of the house, I'm free to call a number I feel like I've been relying on far too much.

A clear, sharp voice responds almost immediately. "Weiss speaking."

"Hey Weiss. It's Jaune."

"Yes, I can see that. What I would _like_ to know is why you're calling me. Unless, against all my assumptions, what you most desire is simply an idle chat."

I wince. "Sorry, it's not. Um, am I catching you at a bad time? I can call back later."

"Not a particularly bad time. No worse than normal, anyways." She sighs. "If not an idle chat, what is it?"

"Are you free this weekend?"

"I'm never _free_. What I can do, however, is make time. For what purpose?"

I grin sheepishly. Not that she can see it. "Would you believe me if I said shopping?"

::-::-::

"I cannot _believe_ you," Weiss fumes. We're walking through one of Vale's shopping centers, the midday sun beating down on us mercilessly. A crowd of people also rushing to shop strangled us from all sides. We have no more than a few feet between us and other people. I dodge to avoid a pedestrian that shoves his way down the street just a little too quickly to be considered safe.

"I feel like I hear that a lot."

"Did you consider that maybe if you weren't so _unbelievable_ you wouldn't hear it so much?"

"Fair point." Another dodge. "So what's the issue this time?"

A much larger man roughly shoulders past Weiss, sending the heiress stumbling a few steps, signature white skirt whirling around her legs. She plants a withering glare into his retreating back.

"Let me get this straight. You essentially blackmailed Ruby into doing what you want, and you think that buying her a _gift_ is going to fix everything?"

"Look, I'm not proud of it either, so can we agree that I'm at least _trying_ to improve the situation?"

The withering glare is turned on me. "At a certain point, Jaune, 'I tried' stops being a sufficient excuse."

I return her irritation, her needling finally getting to me. "For Oum's sake, Weiss, this isn't some, I don't know, some stupid school project where we can screw up and redo it. Our _lives_ are at stake, and I'm not–" I cut myself off as I remember there are people around us. Even worse, we're drawing attention. I'm pretty sure I catch the phrase 'lover's spat.' Once upon a time, the insinuation that I would be the lover of a girl as beautiful and fierce as Weiss would have drawn a blush. Nowadays, the only thing a mention of _love_ elicits is an intense desire to punch the person who said it.

"Well," I finish lamely. "Not – You know."

Weiss drops her gaze before I do. "I… I actually understand your point, if that helps. I just think there has to be a better way."

I sigh, suddenly more tired than angry. We stroll on, ignoring the people around us, and they lose interest quickly when it's clear there will be no more drama. "I'm open to suggestions. Wanna swap places?"

"Please. The first social party you'd have to attend would tear you apart."

I blink in surprise. "Social parties? You're still going to those? Even as a huntress?"

"Yes, well, since his brilliant elder daughter joined his rival in a fit of teenage rebellion, father is very eager to leverage his _wonderful_ second daughter's esteemed position as Grimm-bait to make himself out as the nobly sacrificing parent," Weiss spits out. "And if the head of the SDC wants something done, not much other than a Council majority can overrule it."

"That's…" _Terrible. Merciless. Inhumane._ "Tough. I'm sorry." Smooth, Jaune. Real smooth.

"Don't be. I was born into it. I know how to handle it by now."

 _Yes,_ I muse, _that's exactly why you sound like you're about to cry every time your family comes up_.

I want to give her a hug, but the only thing that would earn me is an elbow to the gut, so I drop the subject, content to follow her expert navigation through the sea of people.

"So," Weiss finally asks as we draw into a clearing in the crowd. "What shop did you want to hit first?"

My response draws one of her eyebrows so far up it's almost hidden by her hair. "A jewelry shop."

::-::-::

We eventually settle on a quaint shop just off the beaten path. When we enter, we're greeted with the sight of a clean, bright room. Sunlight lights up the walls from a series of windows that stretch from the floor to the ceiling. The lone employee – an elderly, balding man – looks up as we enter. After a wave and an incomprehensible mumble of greeting, he returns to swiping a cleaning cloth over the display cases.

I swear I've seen him before. Is it just me, or does this guy work at half the shops in Vale?

Weiss glances around the shop before striding towards a case with a satisfied hum. "I misjudged you. This is… a surprisingly serviceable idea."

I gasp with theatrical exaggeration. "Who are you and what did you do with Weiss?"

She rolls her eyes. "Very funny. I'm sorry I said anything." A pause. "Am I always that harsh?"

"Not usually, no."

"And why do I hear a 'but sometimes' in there?"

"No comment."

"Smart man."

Even though it's nothing but a fast quip, her words give me pause. Smart… me? I wish. Ever since this whole debacle began, I swear it's been nothing from one misstep to another. Any little progress I've made, I wipe out with the next bad decision. Have I done _anything_ right?

But when I look back, what could I have changed? What should I have done differently?

What _could_ I have done differently?

"Jaune?" Weiss breaks me from my thoughts, expression tinged with concern. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, sorry. Just made me think about how badly I've botched everything."

She's silent for a while, brow furrowed in thought. "Why do I feel like you've said this before?"

"I mean, it's true, isn't it?"

"Have you really made mistakes? Or are you just forced to choose between two terrible options?"

 _I've made nothing but mistakes_ almost leaves my mouth, but it doesn't. Maybe because I don't really believe it. It's… it's definitely a nice thought. That maybe all I've done is make the best of the rotten lemons I've been given.

Rather than answer, I make my way over to one of the cases. A neat, organized array of precious metals and glimmering jewelry perches on carpet of purple and scarlet cloth. Before I can comment, Weiss sidles up next to me.

"Something caught your eye?"

I shake my head, then move onto a different case, dissatisfied by what lies before me. "I know a diamond is traditional, and one day I'll get her one, but right now… I don't know. I want to try something a little experimental."

Weiss releases an exaggerated shudder. "And all of a sudden, I'm very nervous."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Free of charge. You're welcome."

I chuckle. "Do you think the fact that half of our conversations are witty exchanges might be a problem?"

"Would you rather I simper like the air headed women – and men, now that I think about it – that I have the misfortune of tolerating at my father's parties?" Weiss asks, eyes shining with a vicious light.

I try to imagine Weiss simpering. The image is nauseating. "Please don't."

"Why, are you _sure_ , Jaune?" Weiss's words drip with toxic honey. "Because it's just such a _wonderful_ experience, and I would so hate to rob a man of your exceptional… _caliber_."

"Please," I beg. "Please, please, please stop, and never do that again."

Weiss snaps back to her usual cold, controlled self, but I see the glimmer of mischief in her eyes. "I told you that you wouldn't survive the first party."

"And you were absolutely correct."

"Aren't I always?"

"Usually, yes."

A smile pulls at the corner of her mouth. "And why do I hear a 'but sometimes not' in there?"

"Why, I can't _imagine_ why you would hear that, Weiss darling. Surely a woman of your… _pedigree_ shouldn't be inventing things that simply aren't there."

"You're right," Weiss comments off-handedly. "That's disgusting."

"Glad you see it my way."

::-::-::

About half an hour into my searching, I finally find _it_. _It_ is a small, brilliantly red gem on a simple gold ring. _It_ should be lost among the ostentatious shimmer of much larger, more valuable gems, but _it_ gleams with an inner light that none of them possess. Like it calls out to me, and I have no choice but to follow its voice.

Somehow, it feels very appropriate.

"I assume you found something you like?" Weiss calls out.

"Come take a look."

She strides over and immediately realizes what caught my eye. "A ruby. For Ruby. Are you serious?"

I struggle for words, not sure how to describe the pull the ring has on me. "Honestly, until you put it _that_ way, I thought it was a good idea." But her approval doesn't matter. I know this is the one I'm going with. Awkward, dorky, lame, whatever. It's _me_.

Weiss's response is probably as close as I'll get to her approval. Or at least her tolerance. "It's so cheesy that it might actually work." She waves one perfectly manicured hand over at the shopkeeper, who strolls over obediently. After a quick word, he unlocks the case and gently places the ring in Weiss's open palm.

"You can do that? Like, that's allowed?" I gawk.

She shrugs. "If _I_ want it done, it's done. Simple."

That is simultaneously the most logical and the most unfair statement I've ever heard. Or at least for today.

Weiss examines the ring with a critical, expert eye. Apparently she likes what she sees, because she gives an approving nod. "You may be interested to know that this isn't a completely natural ruby. I'll spare you the details, but it's basically grafted with a specifically manufactured core of giant fire dust crystals. It's an experimental process, but the quality is exceptional. You have a good eye."

"Thanks. It was developed by seven–" I swallow past the sudden lump in my throat. "Seven sisters. I can't help but pick things up. Although I can't imagine they would approve."

"When you see them again," Weiss says. _When, not if._ "Feel free to tell them that the SDC heiress approves of their taste."

I manage a small smile. "I'll be sure to do that."

::-::-::

After I purchase the ring and a case – a little pricey in total, but _much_ better than I feared – I spend a little more time perusing the store's jewelry. When a much, much lower price tag jumps out at me, I turn back for a second look. The price is for a pair of simple, silver rings – maybe not even pure silver, possibly a cheaper alloy or imitation metal. A simple, winding design of intertwining vines is carved into both of them.

I read the description carefully, right as Weiss leans in to take a closer look.

"Friendship rings? That's a thing?"

"Apparently. It wouldn't surprise me if they were repurposed wedding wings that just didn't sell." She hums in curiosity. "Want to buy one for me?"

I…

Uh…

There's no way I heard that right. Right? Right. So I'm just going to casually pretend I didn't hear anything–

Weiss suddenly sighs, one hand coming up to punch the bridge of her nose. "I said that out loud, didn't I."

"Yes. Very much yes." Hello, gears in my head. Please start turning again. Thank you. "Um, you're not serious, are you?"

"Of _course_ I'm not serious," Weiss snaps, words slurring together in an uncharacteristic rush. "It was a poor attempt at levity that I briefly considered in a sleep deprived lapse in judgement. And apparently said. I'm sorry it slipped out."

"Are you– are you _blushing?_ "

"Of all the impertinent– I do not _blush_!"

 _Oh, you were_ totally _blushing, don't even try to deny it._

Before I can fire off a retort, a brief chime signals the entrance of another customer. Weiss and I both pull our attention to the door. Two heads poke over the display cases, one black haired, one blonde.

Well. Isn't this quite the coincidence?

"Blake?" I gasp. Her gaze snaps to me in an instant, her heightened hearing picking up my voice across the whole store.

"Jaune?" Her face lights up in a beaming smile – or at least a wide grin, which is pretty much the same thing for Blake – and she rushes over to meet me, only to stop dead in her tracks when she notices the other girl in the shop.

"Schnee."

Weiss's response is no less frigid. "Belladonna. What a… surprise, to see you here."

"Trust me, I'd love to minimize our meetings."

I interrupt, desperate to reinstate some facsimile of peace. "I, uh… so you two know each other?" It was a lame attempt at defusing the situation, especially because I already knew that yes, they _did_ in fact know each other, but the palpable tension between the two girls honestly caught me off guard. I was always under the impression Blake had a favorable opinion of Weiss. Apparently, favorable in this case was only relative to her family. Which just meant 'barely tolerable' instead of 'detestable.'

"Oh yes. We keep meeting." Weiss comments acerbically. ' _Unfortunately'_ barely, barely goes unsaid.

"Careful. You wouldn't want to be caught associating with a dirty faunus, _princess._ "

There's something wrong here. Both of their responses are so passive aggressively inflammatory that I have trouble believing that Weiss and Blake, two of the most outwardly controlled people I know, have resorted to needling each other in a public storefront. Are tensions between the White Fang and the SDC unusually strained right now? It would explain the outright hostility I'm currently witnessing.

Right before the passive aggression turns into – well _outright_ aggression – the most unlikely of heroes steps in to save the day.

"Ladies, ladies, is now the time to be fighting?" Sun drawls. He lays one muscled arm across Blake's shoulders, and when she shrugs him off, he only chuckles. "I mean, look, you have one incredible hunk of a man right in front of you, and he's all for you to enjoy."

"You," Blake cries in exasperation, her spat with Weiss temporarily forgotten, "are _such_ a dork."

"Someone has to balance you," Sun counters with a sly wink.

 _Oooh, that was smooth._

See, this is why life is so unfair. My brother dork somehow gets blessed with the smoothness of melted chocolate, and I –

Let's not talk about me. Let's just say I don't.

Isn't that ironic? The guy who's actually married can't say something romantic to save his life, and the actually romantic one isn't even –

Wait a second.

"So, uh," I gesture vaguely to the jewelry around us. "Are you guys here to buy…?"

"Absolutely," Sun crows, a huge smile nearly splitting his face.

Blake rolls her eyes. "As _friends_. I promised I would go along with his whole 'friendship ring' thing if we survived twenty missions."

"Ah come on babe. All this time and you still haven't succumbed to my charms?"

"Every time you call me babe, you get further away from succeeding."

Sun says something else, probably jokingly mournful, but it goes unheard, because my mind is still whirling at one of the first things he said.

 _Twenty missions?!_

There was a joke I once heard, if you could even call it that. It was something along the lines of "a good hunter measures their life in days. The best hunters measure it in weeks."

To survive twenty missions…

 _Incredible_. _The White Fang deserve their reputation._

"And by the way, ma'am," Sun protests. "Maybe have a little more faith. Not _if_ we survived twenty missions. _When._ There was never any doubt. _"_

"Whatever."

I look at Blake, a small smile playing around her lips, then at Sun, eyes dancing with glee, his sole focus on the girl next to him.

 _I wonder if they have all the same relationship problems that Ruby and I do._

And before I can stop myself, a poisonous, jealous voice continues. _Why does everything go so well for Sun?_

I'm immediately ashamed. Sun and Blake risk constantly risk their lives to a degree that I can barely comprehend. They deserve any scrap of happiness they can eke out of their lives.

But I can't control the thought.

Weiss's icy voice breaks me out of my reverie."If you're here for such a purpose," she sniffs, "these so called 'friendship rings' are right here. Jaune and I were about to leave, so I'll be happy to leave you to it."

"Much appreciated," Blake fires back, not the slightest bit warmer.

I look at Sun. He looks back at me.

"Have fun?" I offer with a weak grin.

"Thanks brother. Appreciate it. Say hi to the missus for me!"

I hope he's talking about Ruby. I also hope he never, ever calls her that again.

Missus? Really?

::-::-::

We step out onto a quiet road bathed in soft orange sunset light, leaving the two lovebirds (love Faunus?) to their fun. I turn to the girl next to me. Weiss scans the road, sharp as ever, but she relaxes when she notices my gaze.

"Yes?"

"Thanks so much, Weiss," I say, words painfully earnest. "Seriously. For everything. I can't ever repay you, but please let me know if there's anything you need."

"Forget it. I don't demand repayment from paupers." She manages to hold a straight face for a moment, but then is overcome by a subdued chuckle.

How did I every make such a good friend?

"For what it's worth," she continues, once again serious. "I… I hope this works for you. You and Ruby… well. You know. I think you're both – both right, in a way."

I take a deep, shuddering breath. "So do I. That's what makes it harder. I understand why she feels the way she does."

"But you don't think it can happen. Training, being hunters, and everything else."

"No. I _know_ it can't. No matter how much we might wish otherwise."

She stares into the sunset, quiet, pensive. I match her.

"Good luck, Jaune. If nothing else, you're a… well, a good guy. Mostly."

"You told me that 'I tried' isn't good enough," I comment, suddenly exhausted. "But that's all I have to offer."

"Then do so. Tonight."

I laugh, the irony of the situation suddenly apparent. Weiss glares at me, eyes dangerously narrowed.

"And just what do you find so funny?"

"Sorry, sorry," I say. "It's just that for all that you hate each other, you and Blake offer really similar advice."

Weiss sighs. "What an unfortunate coincidence."

 **A/N:**

IT'S A ME, MARIOOOOO

So yeah, I'm not dead, and neither is this story. I'd apologize for the long update gap, but you're probably all tired of that song and dance; so here's the deal. I'm working full time now (oh boy adulting), which means putting a lot of time into writing is difficult, but I also really want to finish Eugenics before I'm 70. What this means is that you guys get (cough much cough) shorter chapters, but you also get them more than once every 8 months. Good trade? I hope so.

With the new chapter length, I'm aiming to update every 3 weeks or so, but no promises.

For those of you who left reviews or PM'd me to check on the story status, thank you. You're a large part of the reason why I'm back.

Also a big thanks to everyone who stuck around, and welcome to all the newcomers. Buckle in, cuz the only speed we have from here is 'faster.'

Please review! Putt putt.


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